Harry Potter and the Broken Miracle
by The Last True Hero
Summary: AU after fifth year. Harry was destined to defeat Voldemort or die trying; but when a new piece comes into play on the board, nothing is certain anymore. Canon pairings.  Formerly know as Harry Potter and the Revolution.
1. Divergence

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own Harry Potter or any other owned item used in this story. _

_**A/N: **__I really should focus on a single story (preferably my own original work), but meh. When an idea sticks, you just gotta write it out. It's set after fifth year. Also, I'll admit that the first chapter sucks. It picks up after that though._

* * *

_**Harry Potter and the Broken Miracle**_

_Chapter One – Divergence_

"_With rebellion, awareness is born." ~ Albert Camus_

In the fortress-stronghold of Lord Voldemort, Harry James Potter lies in the Abyss.

He does not know how long he has been here, or even where he is exactly. All he knows is pain.

* * *

_Outside Number Four Privet Drive, Harry lay on the ground in bruised and battered agony. Two days after the end of fifth year, Death Eaters had attacked. Dumbledore's supposed protection had failed, and they had attacked in force._

'_Itty-Bitty Potter went up the water spout!' Bellatrix Lestrange cackled. 'Down came the rain, and washed the Potter out!' Two seconds later: '__**Crucio!**__'_

_He hadn't even had a chance to fight back before he was incapacitated. They forced him to watch as the Dursleys died like game for hunters in a flash of green. Then they tortured him. Then they took him away._

_The Order never arrived._

* * *

Harry was tortured every day. By the Abyss, and by his captors in brutal, depraved ways. After the third day, he had slipped into insanity, but still alive to feel the pain.

He was tortured by visions of his parents, his godfather and his friends. They blamed him. Taunted him. Accused him of causing nothing but death and devastation. That he ruined their lives. A logical part of him would have said it made no sense, but the Abyss tore all logic and all sense from the world.

* * *

'_Harry Potter. You are mine.'_

_Lord Voldemort smiled. It wasn't a happy smile – it only promised malice and hate. He casually reached into his long flowing robes and drew his bone-white wand. With a single flick, Harry screamed in agony once more. It seemed to go on for an eternity before Harry's voice failed him._

_Then it was over. Voldemort walked to were Harry lay, bound in iron chains. He kneeled down to Harry's level. 'You're probably wondering how I got past Dumbledore's protection, yes?' He paused, perhaps for a degree of melodramatic flair. 'I found someone useful. Far more powerful than even Dumbledore. Jackson Tibus.'_

* * *

He doesn't know how long he's been here. Could've been a few days, or a few decades. All he knew was the pain.

But then, after a few eternities, that began to change. Harry could think again to a degree. And he did. He thought about everyone who ever died for him. Why they died. And it all came back to Voldemort. Voldemort and the damned prophecy.

They had died so he could live. Was he to blame? Perhaps in part, but it all came back to Voldemort. Harry vowed to survive, to make that mean something. He was going to kill the bastard. _For neither can live while the other survives…_

For the longest time, the black of the Abyss was eating Harry.

Now Harry began to fight back.

* * *

_Albus Dumbledore sighed. Day 13, and still no sight of Harry, or even Voldemort. He stood in the former residence of Number 12 Grimmauld Place - former home to the deceased Sirius Black. His Order of the Phoenix sat before hi, eager and desperate for any news._

'_Still no sightings.' Dumbledore said simply with a heavy heart. The Order deflated. 'How did they get past his protections?' Kingsley Shacklebolt pondered. 'He must have had help.'_

_Dumbledore agreed. The wards were based on love magic – something Voldemort could never comprehend. Therefore, he would have needed help from another wizard just as powerful as Voldemort or Albus himself. 'But who? That is the question.' He said._

_Remus Lupin seemed to have an answer for that. Wordlessly he stood and produced a tattied issue of the __**Daily Prophet**__ and threw it down on the table. The headline read:_

_**AMERICA HAILS TIBUS AS THE NEW MERLIN**_

'_He's powerful, just like you Albus.' Remus stated. Albus nodded, as it was true._

'_He ain't dark though.' Moody grunted. 'At least not like Voldemort.'_

_Remus seemed to have thought about this. 'True, but twenty years back there was that scandal with his memoirs. Y'know, the ones about how he thought the muggles could wipe us out.'_

_Dumbledore saw where he was going. 'You think that he's made an alliance with Voldemort to wipe out the muggles?'_

_Remus shrugs. 'I don't know. But it makes sense.'_

'_Agreed. We'll have to keep an eye on him.'_

_Just then, the fireplace flared green, and a sobbing Arthur and Molly Weasely leapt out. Albus was instantly on alert, but what they told him next nearly broke his heart._

'_They…they took Ginny!'_

* * *

They've pulled me from the Abyss. I don't know why. I can guess, though. They're gonna kill me. Or taunt me. Or torture me. Probably all three. Ah well, what's to be done? The pain no longer fazes me like it used to. They have to try and one-up somehow. Think I'd prefer a nice trip to the Bahamas though. Now _that_ would shock me.

I'm being dragged along in heavy chains. Fenrir Greyback the werewolf and someone named Carrow. The part of me that's flourished in the pain wants to crack jokes about dogs and shock collars, but my throats too bruised to speak unnecessarily.

We enter a hall, and like the rest of the godforsaken place it's like a dark and grimy dungeon. They should really think about getting a decorator in. Some candles would do wonders, yes?

I barely notice as they throw me at Voldemort's feet. His, strange, scaly, monster feet. Seriously, have you seen them? They're like _whoooaaaaaa, what the hell's going on here?_

There's someone standing at his side, bound with a bag over their head. Poor sod, whoever it is.

Voldemort grins. It's not the nicest grin. 'Hello, Harry.'

'Sup, Tom.' I rasp. I'm gonna die anyways, so why not piss him off a bit beforehand? Just as intended, Voldemort's nostrils flared and he snapped: 'Do not call me that!'

'Why? It's your name, no?' Voldemort leapt to his feet. 'My name is Lord Voldemort!'

'Did you actually get it changed though? 'cause if not then it's just a nickname…'

A second later I'm on my back in agony as he punishes my cheek with the Cruciatus Curse. Bah, let him. 'Getting rusty, Tommy! Needs more juice!'

Surprisingly, he stops, deep in thought. Then he flicks his wand and the chains around me fall off. I blink at the realisation I can actually move again. Then he does something even more surpising. He reaches into his robes and pulls out a familiar old wand. Mine. Holly and phoenix-feather, eleven inches.

I catch it as it is thrown towards me. 'You can still duel, yes?' Voldemort phrases it like a question, but really it's a statement. 'Why should I?'

Voldemort chuckles. 'For her.'

He waves his hand, and the bound person is revealed to be Ginny Weasley.

* * *

'_What happened?' Albus asked as gently as he could. The Weasleys were sat down by the fire, given cups of calming tea and sympathy in bulk._

'_We were in Diagon Alley-' Molly sobs.'- they just came out of nowhere. Oh Ginny.'_

_Arthur, for his credit, sat silently in numb shock, although there were the beginnings of a furious inferno in his eyes._

'_We'll get her back, Molly.' Albus promised._

* * *

Well, they one-upped themselves. I'll give them that. Tricksy, very tricksy. What to do? What _can _I do?

'Duel, or she dies.'

We both know she'll die anyway, and Ginny knows it too, bless her.

'_Expelliarmus!'_

The jet of red light didn't do anything. Voldemort simply deflected it. To be honest, I'm more surprised I actually managed to cast it. I'm broken and drained, but there was something stirring inside me – a storm beneath the bruised and scarred flesh.

_At least you're going out on your feet._

A jet of orange is hurled at my feet, and I'm knocked back on my ass. So much for that thought.

All the Death Eaters – backed away and watching from the sidelines – are laughing. They know I can't win. Can't fight Voldemort. _Can't save Ginny._

The storm within ignites, and to the shock of all, little, broken Harry Potter stands to his feet. No one's laughing now. They'll all in shock. Even Voldemort is unnerved.

Ginny cries out my name, telling me to keep fighting. To not give up. Voldemort slashes his wand and Ginny screams. And that was when all hell broke loose.

I send spell after spell at Voldemort. Fuelled by anger, and pain – part of me wants to say love – Voldemort can't keep up with my assault. Eventually, one spell gets through and knocks him back. The Death Eaters gasp in collective –_this ain't a fucking pantomime – _and Voldemort realises he might have kicked the proverbial hornet's nest.

He got desperate. He got weak.

He turned his wand on Ginny and fired off a Killing Curse.

Time slowed to a halt. Most would say they had to think about sacrificing their life for another, but I didn't even consider anything else.

I moved in between, and the green light hits me square in the chest. The last thing I hear is Voldemort's tyrannical laugh and Ginny's heartbroken screams.

* * *

So here's a funny thing. The afterlife is exactly like King's Cross station. Only cleaner. And more white. And for some reason I'm naked. And my scar is gone. So are all my wounds.

Still, it's peaceful here, and it's certainly better than the hellhole I left behind.

Left Ginny in. That thought sobers me immensely, and I'm wracked by guilt.

'It's not your fault.' A soft voice answers. I spin around, and find myself face to face with a dead woman. Wait...I'm dead too. Why is that surprising? Lily Potter smiles at me, and before I can say anything she's embraced me in a hug to rival the Weasley matriarch. 'Mum?'

'It's me, Harry, it's me. We're so proud of you.' She said.

'We?' I ask, buried in the crook of her shoulder. I feel her nod. 'Only one could come here, though.'

'Where _is_ here, exactly?

Lily looked around. 'I don't know what you're actually seeing, but this is a form of limbo. For those with a choice.'

I don't need to ask what the choice is. 'I need to go back to help Ginny.'

Lily smiled. 'Even if it seems hopeless?'

'I'd do anything for her.' Suddenly what I just said hits home. I hadn't even given a second thought to Ron or Hermione, or anyone else when I said that. Maybe…nah. I couldn't love her. That's just silly…isn't it? I've just spent time in hell on Earth, it's just the insanity talking.

_Harry's got a girlfriend, Harry's got a girlfri- SHUT THE FUCK UP!_

Lily smiled knowingly. 'Just follow your heart. It'll keep you right.' She leaned forward and kissed me on the head. 'I love you Harry, so very much.' She let go of me, and stepped back.

'Wait-' I call out desperately. Part of me doesn't want to leave. Doesn't want to leave Mum. She started to fade away. 'Don't go!'

Lily smiled. 'You've made your choice, and now you have to fight. And you'll win.'

Just as the world collapses, I'm sure I heard her shout: 'Don't come back till I have grandkids!'

* * *

Voldemort's laughing. Ginny's crying over my corpse that's not a corpse.

'He is dead, Ginerva.' Voldemort's walking over. 'I have bested him.' _You cheated!_

'He's not dead.' Ginny stated defiantly. 'Harry doesn't die. He can't.'

'And why is that?' Voldemort asked, his voice dangerously low. The answer Ginny gave would've made me smile if I could.

'Because he's Harry_.' Hell yeah. I'm Harry motherfuckin' Potter._

He crouched down next to us, and I crack open one eye, and saw that Voldemort had a serpentine necklace around his neck. I wondered what it was for, then it hit me. This place was warded against magical transport, but Voldemort would have a way to get past his own wards. That was either the necklace's purpose, or Voldemort's turned into a pansy.

'Harry. Potter. Is. Dead.' With every word he pokes me in the chest with his wand. Fuck it…

'Actually…' I spring up and snatch the necklace, and yank it from his neck with my left-hand, then ram my wand into his chest with my right. The force of the spell sends him flying across the room.

I turn to Ginny and grab her hand, still holding the necklace. 'Trust me?' I rasp softly.

Despite her shock and fear, she smiles. 'Always.'

I squeeze my eyes shut and concentrate. I've never Apparated before, but hey, no time like the present. Am I right?

I feel the discomforting sensation of being squeezed through a needle tube just as the lights of a dozen curses come flying towards us. The world spins, and Ginny screams.

Then everything stops. Blue sky hangs above us. I did it. _Booyah, motherfuckers!_

I don't know where we are, and I don't care. I'm free, and Ginny's safe. That was all that mattered.

* * *

Albus was still in shock. After thirteen days of no sightings, Harry had not only engineered his escape from Voldemort's clutches but even rescued young Ginerva as well. All the more impressive considering the state the boy had been in.

His brother Aberforth contacted him last night to tell him that Harry and Ginerva had Apparated into Hogsmeade somehow. Less than five minutes later the Order had arrived in force to secure them. They were both taken to St. Mungo's hospital in London, and placed in the care of Jenny Brightwater, a Healer with ties to the Order.

Ginerva was fine save a mild case of Cruciatus exposure and the shock of the situation. Harry on the other hand…well, Healer Brightwater was giving a sizable list.

'On the surface he's got dozens of mild bruises and lacerations. Inside you've got internal bleeding, severe nerve damage, fifty-three broken bones, a punctured lung and mild muscle atrophy.' She rattled off. 'And that's just the physical. He's been asleep so we can't determine the extent of mental damage, but anyone can tell it'll be extensive.'

Dumbledore sighed and stroked his beard, deep in thought. They were in the hospital, right outside Harry's private room. Through the windows he could see Harry hooked up to nutrient I.V's and covered in salves and bandages. The room – like the rest of the hospital – was sterile, clinical white. _He's been through the wars._

'What are our options?' He asked. Brightwater consulted her chart, before glancing at Harry furtively. 'Well.' She began slowly. 'The surface damage will be fixed by the end of the day. We could theoretically release him in three days assuming you can pass the paper work and get appropriate home care for him.' She paused at that, before adding. 'Normally I'd advise against that, but seeing as its Harry I think it's best to get him out. There's no hiding him from the press here, let alone Death Eaters.'

Albus nodded. 'I'll get right on that. You said you were unable to assess his mental state?'

Brightwater shrugged. 'He's been unconscious. I've asked a couple of the mind Healers though and they've said he'll probably have severe issues upon waking up, if not a mental breakdown.' She sighed. 'This kinda trauma isn't what a hospital can fix. He needs his friends and family to help him get through it, not a guy with a notepad.'

'Another reason to get him moved then.'

'Precisely' Brightwater agreed. 'I'll alert you when he wakes up. Until then we're just going to have to sit tight. If he really is the Chosen One then we have to make sure he comes out of this in fighting shape.'

Albus mentally scowled at that. She implied that Harry was a pawn, a mere tool to be used against the Dark Lord. He himself had made those mistakes far too often. They needed Harry yes, but he was still an individual. 'Thank you, Jenny. That would be most appreciated.'

Jenny nodded, before departing to check on her other patients.

Once she had left, Albus moved to the window and scrutinised Harry once again.

_Just what are we to do with you, Harry?_

Dumbledore had reviewed Ginerva's memory of the events leading to the escape, and what he had seen could not make him more proud of Harry. The way he had moved so selflessly in the Killing Curse made him glad to know he had met Harry. He had also smiled at Ginerva's declaration. She would do wonders for him, he was sure.

It also eliminated another problem Dumbledore had identified. He had long suspected that Harry had contained a fragment of Voldemort's soul, as a remainder from the attack on the Potters. It explained both the abilities and connection he shared with the Dark Lord. It also meant that Harry would have to die for Voldemort to become mortal once more. That would no longer be an issue, however – he suspected that the fragment was now gone. He had put his hunt for Voldemort's other Horcruxes on hold until Harry was better.

Harry's friends had been desperate to see him, although they had been refused visiting rights until he was awake.

Then there was the matter of the Dursley family. The Ministry had been quick to cover it up, and the funeral had been delayed until Harry could choose to go if he wished. He lamented the lack of love there, but knew that Harry may still have elected to go.

Many of his personal possessions were destroyed, but his owl had been out hunting, and the cloak of invisibility – far more important than even Harry realised - and map were left untouched. Most of his schoolbooks and clothes, along with his broomstick were ruined, and would require replacement. Another task to consider.

Albus sighed. So much to do, so little time.

* * *

Ron banged the back of the head again on the wall behind him. 'I hate this!' Beside him, Hermione nodded in sympathy. 'I know Ron, but it's so they can make sure he's alright first.'

Ron harrumphed. 'It doesn't mean I have to like it.'

Just then, Molly Weasley's voice echoed up through the floors of the Burrow to their room. 'You can clean your room!' Ron jumped before scowling. 'She hears everything…' He muttered.

'Yes I do!' Which made Hermione giggle. Ron turned to her and scowled. She simply grinned back in amusement. He sighed, before standing up and marching over to the window. Hermione's grin faded, and turned to a look of sadness. 'Ron?'

'I hate not knowing if Harry's alright. He spent thirteen days there! And we couldn't do a damn thing!' He exploded. 'He does so much for us – for everyone – and all he seems to do is suffer.'

Hermione was surprised. 'I didn't know you felt that way.'

'I do. I know I act like a git sometimes, but...' He sighed. 'That's what Harry does. You meet him and he makes you a better person.' He seemed to realise what he had said and blushed a spectacular shade of red. Hermione stood and joined him by the window, and placed a hand on Ron's shoulder.

'I know Ron. I think the same.' She sighed. 'But Harry's safe now. Dumbledore's made sure of that. We just have to be patient and everything will be fine.'

The pair fell into silence, watching her cat Crookshanks chase gnomes across the garden.

Hermione decided to ask about whether Ron had done his homework: 'Hey, Ron -?'

Hermione gasped when Ron turned and pressed his lips to hers in a kiss. Hermione wasn't sure what to do until Ron stopped, and looked at her in a mix of embarrassment and shame.

'I-I should go.' Hermione stuttered, before making a beeline from the room.

* * *

For a brief instant when I awoke, I thought I had gone back to Limbo. Everything around we was white, much like a hospital. I realised I wasn't wearing my glasses – although given the state they'd been in, it was probably better to replace them. I could make out a few things though. I was in a room, and more specifically a bed. I could feel something attached to my arm – an IV probably. So I was in a hospital. St Mungo's. Alright. That meant a degree of relative safety.

I hear a door to my right open. I turn, and I'm greeted by the entrance of a blurred outline of a person. 'Hello, Harry.' Female. Sounds nice. Probably a healer. 'Glasses.' I croak. My throat hurts from lack of use. How long had I been out?

The healer presses a pair of simple glasses in my trembling hands. I manage to slip them on and the world comes into focus. The Healer – her nametag identified her as "Jenny Brightwater" – she held a simple prettiness and a warm demeanour. Quite short, with her auburn hair tied up in a neat bun.

'My name is Healer Brightwater.' She began. _I've noticed._ 'You've been here for about a day and a half after your capture. You were very badly hurt-' No, really? '- but we've managed to fix most of the physical ailments. You'll need bed rest and a potions course outside for a few weeks, though.'

She reached for the jug of water on the bedside, and poured me a glass which I drank from greedily. She frowned slightly, as though debating whether to continue. Then she said 'If you need anything just say.'

'Thanks.' And with that, she left.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Albus Doumbledore entered. Clad in his usual eccentric robes, he looked every part the wise old wizard he was, especially with his ever-twinkling eyes. He was beaming at me with pride, and proclaimed: 'Harry my boy, you never cease to amaze me.'

'Heh. Thanks, I guess.' I hated it when people did that. Oh Harry, you could turn the sun off, oh Harry, you can do anything. I'm just a kid made by circumstance. I'm not a hero. Sure I've done incredible things, but for the most part I just came in at the end. Hermione had done most of the leg-work in finding the Chamber. And helping me with the Tournament…

Most of the time in Voldemort's hands is blurred – I don't even really remember escaping – but I remember Ginny, and I remember dying. And the King's Cross that wasn't King's Cross.

'Is Ginny alright?' I ask. Dumbeldore smiles reassuringly. 'She is perfectly fine – she is at the Burrow.'

I smile as Dumbledore continues. 'I saw her memory of what happened, and I must say you performed spectacularly. Few could be so selfless.'

'How did I survive?' I asked. Part of me doubted even Dumbledore would know, but the man was a genius and usually had a half-answer. Just as expected, he said that he didn't know for certain, but had theories. 'Tell me Harry, can you still feel your connection to Voldemort?' He asked, as though discussing the weather.

'Yes.' I could, but it felt different somehow. 'It doesn't seem as strong though.'

Dumbledore tilted his head. 'Interesting, it seems my theory has to be amended.'

'He can't get in though.' Yup. I had finally figured out Occulmency. At least in regards to keeping out Voldemort. Dumbledore smiled sadly. 'How?'

'I just have to think of things he hates. My friends. Mum. Dad.' I pause, and take a breath. 'Sirius.'

Dumbeldore beamed at hearing this. 'Love is his weakness Harry, and your greatest strength. Don't shy away from it.'

We fall into companionable silence. Dumbledore examined the many trinkets and get well gifts I had seemingly been sent – who the hell were these people? – and I focused my interest at a small hole in my bed covers. Eventually, I break the silence. 'Ron and Hermione?'

'Ah yes. Mister Weasley and Miss Granger were most worried about you. I have decided it best to simply have you all moved to Hogwarts as soon as possible for your protection.'

I scowl at that. 'Caged birds can never fly…'

'You are not caged, my boy. It is simply until we can find a more permanent solution. The Burrow is not safe enough and we're currently having difficulties with Grimmauld Place. But that is for another time.'

I sigh and accept what he says. He's right, as much as I don't like to admit it. He only ever acts for our best interests, even if we don't like it at the time. Even Sirius knew that.

Strangely I'm not grieving over Sirius anymore. I think seeing my mother in the afterlife made me realise that the dead are never really gone. They watch after us, and never abandon us when in need.

'You're coping well with things.' Professor Dumbledore noted, eying me furtively over his half-moon spectacles.

'Can't really remember most of it.' I admitted honestly. It had all blurred together into a constant maelstrom of agony, so picking apart a single event was borderline impossible.

'Perhaps it is for the best.' Dumbledore mumbled. He smiled, and patted my leg comfortingly – I twitch at that. Not too keen on being touched. – before standing. 'I'll see you again shortly. Get rest.' What else am I supposed to do? Sing and dance around a campfire? 'And I'll try and arrange something with your friends.'

'Thank you.'

Dumbledore suddenly seemed to remember something. 'The funeral for the Dursley's is in three weeks, if you wish to go.' I blink, then remember that my "family" had died when the Death Eaters got me. We had never been much, but they _had_ looked after me for the best part of ten years. Grudgingly, less than socially acceptable, but they had still done it. I owed them that at least.

'I'll go.' I promised. Dumbledore nodded, before leaving me alone in the room.

I fucking hate hospitals.

* * *

_I think it's time I made a change._

* * *

Underneath a small tree in her garden, Ginny sat there thinking. She was thinking about how Harry had somehow managed to rescue her despite being a prisoner before she was. Was "rescued" the right word? Perhaps "Escape" would be better. Or perhaps "absconded"? Whatever it was, Harry had saved her life again.

Although she knew Harry would hate to acknowledge it, Harry _did _have a very heroic quality to him. He fought and killed a basilisk when she was eleven to save her –with a sword! And then the night in the Department of Mysteries saw him placing himself in-between her and the Death Eaters. And then, despite extensive torture and abuse, he not only takes a Killing Curse for her, but survived and then escaped.

And then there was his compassion. After he had rescued her from the Chamber, he had actually began to talk to her and write, to make sure she was okay. Sure he could be a prat sometimes, but no matter what way you looked at it, Harry lived up to the legends.

Not that she fancied him or anything. No, of course not. She was with Dean. Harry didn't like her like that. And she was with Dean. The old Ginny couldn't speak around him, and had a collection of self-made dolls and stories. Not the person she was now. Dean was nice to her, if a little too interested in the physical side of things. _She was with Dean._

Yes, Ginny definitely had no romantic feelings for Harry Potter.

* * *

_**A/N: **__Peace out._


	2. Independant Study

_**Disclaimer**__: Just who do you think you are?_

_**A/N: **__So, for the sake of getting into the think of the story, I've made a fair time-jump. Harry's now at Hogwarts, and is pissing off Dumbledore no end concerning a rather creative method Harry has come up with to train._

* * *

_**Harry Potter and the Broken Miracle**_

_Chapter Two – Independent Study_

"_To be conscious you are ignorant is a great step to knowledge." ~ Benjamin Disraeli_

As he continued to smack the flat of his palm against the stone wall, Dumbledore couldn't help be frustrated at the situation. He had told Harry not to do this; there were simple too many variables to offset the potential benefits.

* * *

_'I want to use the Room of Requirement to train.' Harry began simply. Although still weak from his brief capture, he had recovered enough to move freely around the castle. His first display had been to carry several books and notes up to the Headmaster's office with a proposition._

_Dumbledore regarded him curiously behind his spectacles. 'Go on.'_

_He grinned then like a business entrepreneur began his pitch with a rubbing of his hands. 'The Room is more or less just pure magic that becomes moulded to the user's thought, yes?'_

_Dumbledore nodded. 'Seemingly'_

'_Well, I was thinking.' He reached down and picked up on of his books, titled __**101 Wizard Locations**__. 'The Magus Library in Rome is the biggest magical library in the world. It holds thousands of years' worth of ancient and modern magical knowledge.'_

'_You wish to recreate the library within the room.' Dumbledore guessed. Harry grinned and nodded._

'_Exactamundo!'_

_Dumbledore however saw a flaw- most likely one he had thought of, but still needed addressing. 'It's not a question of where to find the resources though. There simply isn't enough time for you to learn and train enough to be at Voldemort's level.'_

'_Yeah, yeah.' Harry said dismissively. 'I'll get the room to enact a time-dilation field. From what I can tell, I should be able to manage about a year in the Room to a minute of real-time.'_

'_And how do we explain the fact you seem decades older to your friends? And for that matter, how would you eat? You cannot conjure edible food.'_

_Harry dismissed his points with a wave of his hand. 'The Room'll stop me aging. And I should be able to grow the ingredients in the Room to brew nutrient potions.'_

_Dumbledore rolled his eyes. 'You cannot spend that long on nutrient potions. Your digestive system will atrophy and you won't be able to eat properly for weeks afterwards.'_

_Harry shrugged. 'Acceptable.'_

_Dumbledore stood and shook his head in the negative. 'While I can see the merits, I simply cannot endorse this. You cannot spend that long in solitude.'_

_Harry sighed, but relented._

* * *

Except the boy hadn't. With the help of a certain devoted House-Elf, he had seemingly stockpiled all the necessary resources for his insane plan. When Harry had failed to turn up to breakfast, Dumbledore had instantly known why. A small investigation had revealed Dobby's involvement, and although he was frustrated, he couldn't help but be amused by the Elf's revelations. And so, Albus now waited outside the hidden entrance to the Room of Requirement on the seventh floor waiting for him to come out.

He had so far waited for seventeen minutes, which meant that Harry could have been inside for seventeen years, relatively speaking. He had conjured up a plush armchair and asked the House-Elves for some tea, biscuits and lemon drops. If he had to wait, he may as well be comfortable.

Eventually, the Room's doors faded into view. Dumbledore simply sipped his tea and waited expectantly. As predicted, a dishevelled, but ultimately alive – he was waiting before he could say "sane" - Harry exited from the Room. His hair had grown out to his shoulders, and there almost the beginnings of a beard on his jaw.

Dumbledore aired a simple question. 'How long?'

Harry didn't give an answer, but Albus could tell it was too long. Harry held himself uncertainly, looking around and blinking, obviously trying to remember where he was. He blinked again, before realising the Headmaster was present and focused on him.

'Professor Bumblebee?' And then he collapsed.

Albus sighed. He would lecture him later, for now he simply called the elves and had the boy taken to the Hospital Wing to be cared for by Poppy.

The tea was too good to waste, anyways.

* * *

_Two Hours Later_

I wince as I come to. What had happened? Ah yes, Professor…whats-his-name…Dumbledore! He had been outside as I left the Room and all the wonders it contained. The plan had worked. A least I think it did. I can't really remember what the plan actually was any more. Something to do with a bad guy. Oh yeah. Voldemort or something. Heh. Better not tell anyone I'd forgotten that.

Still, I'd say it was worth it. What I learned, both in magic and about me were beyond any quantative value. Voldemort better watch out, I'm on to your little Horcrux idea…

I fumble around, and find my glasses on the bedside. I'm in the bloody Hospital Wing again. I should really ask Madam Pomfrey if I can get my own bed reserved. Get like a cute little plaque or something.

'Harry, Harry, Harry.' It was Professor Dumbledore, wearing lilac robes adorned with sliver stars and a weary look on his face. The customary twinkle had faded from his eyes. 'Any particular reason you disregard my requests and throw yourself into possibly dangerous situations?'

'Shits and giggles?' I offer humourlessly. Then I take on an air of seriousness. 'I know you mean well, Professor, really, I do…but you can't just keep hiding me away from this. I _need _to get stronger. I need to be able to fight.'

Dumbledore sighed. 'It is a sad day when a child must go to war.'

I snort derisively at that. 'I lost my childhood the night my parents died.' It was true. I'd never been happy at Privet Drive, and while things had certainly improved when I went to Hogwarts, the annual attempts on my life got a bit wearisome after almost being killed five times. At least during the fight at the Ministry I could say it was my own choice. _My own fault…_

'I know. It just breaks my heart to admit it.' Dumbledore sighed. 'Was it at least successful?'

I grin wolfishly, and then answer. 'Very. I see why Hermione loves learning so much. Discovering new things, new ways to see the world.'

Dumbledore chuckled in understanding. I think he was finding it harder and harder to begrudge me. 'How long were you in there?'

'Uh…what time did I come out?'

'Thirteen minutes past twelve.' He supplied helpfully.

'I was there one hundred years.' I state simply. A hundred years down to the day. I had timed it perfectly so that my age was wrapped up in a neat little bow.

'A century?' Dumbeldore gasped incredulously. 'How ever did you survive?'

I shrugged. 'I grew fruit and vegetables, plus all the ingredients for nutrient potions. I had a garden.' I had more than that. I had my own little world, where nothing could get me and I could do whatever I wanted. It had started with just the library, but then I got creative. I made forests and shining sliver cities and mountains made of gold and a brilliant orange sky. A world built on pure imagination.

'And Dobby helped you.' The Headmaster noted. I wince at that. 'Don't be hard on him, he was only helping.'

'I did not do anything to him, nor will I. The more and more I talk to you, the more it seems I have no reason to be angry.'

I smile at that. 'Thanks.' I said softly. Dumbeldore meant more to me than I cared to admit, and I knew he felt similarly.

'So, what did you learn?'

'What didn't I learn?' I ask cheerfully, excited at the prospect of showing off everything I had learned. 'At first I just sorta focused on battle magic and crap like that, but then I expanded out into charms, transfiguration, runes, potions, alchemy, wards, wandlore and even things like elemental magic.'

And then after a while I had realised that I could learn things besides magic.

Dumblredore nodded appreciatively, before a slight frown crinkled his brow. He asked cautiously. 'Dark magic?'

I look down and mumble. 'A bit…I'm not gonna use it though. I was just seeing so I knew what I'm up against.' It was true. Most of it was far too grisly and complicated for my tastes. I'll stick to the simple straight-up spells, thank you very much.

Although he was obviously worried by that proclamation, he let it slide. I think he has more faith in me than to go dark. Or even skirt the lines.

Of course, I didn't _just_ learn about magic. After a while I realised I could recreate muggle libraries as well. And I did. Specifically the American Library of Congress. Spilt between three buildings in Washington D.C, it was the muggle world's largest library in terms of shelf-space and number of books. And then I learned from texts in there. Muggle science and history, and whatever else took my interest.

That was one of the beauties of the Room. Almost everyone has a list of things they'd like to do but for whatever reason can't. Y'know, learn an instrument, learn a new language, travel the world, and all that jazz. I had done that as well – I could now speak a number of foreign languages and play a number of musical instruments. Yes, I had used my century very well.

I was shaken out of my little reverie when Dumbledore spoke again. 'You seem very well adjusted for someone who just spent a century in solitude.'

'Heh.' Funny that. 'Because I sorta wasn't.'

Dumbledore cocked an eyebrow, and I continued. 'Well…I kinda created duplicates of people.'

'How is that possible?'

'They weren't _real._' I stuttered, hastily. 'Just like memories made corporal. The Room runs on imagination, remember?'

'Who?'

I knew he wasn't going to like what I said next, but. 'Well…Sirius.'

Dumbledore sighed. 'Harry…you cannot keep living in the past.'

I knew that was what he going to be like. But he was wrong, at least in part. That was how it started, sure, but after a while even memories can take on a mind of their own.

_Sirius glanced at me from across the varnished oak table. I had been here for 37 years by my own estimate, and Sirius for 35 of them. He helped me train however he could – he couldn't duel, or use magic but he could help me train physically, coaching me in an exercise program and helping me find whatever he needed._

_He even told me stories of his days as a Marauder with my father and Remus. A part of me knew they weren't real, couldn't be, but it was nice to hear the sort of things they had done._

'_Harry.' He said simply._

'_What's up, Padfoot?' I answer easily. Life was good, if a little less than exciting._

'_Why am I here?' He asked, a note of pain in his voice._

'_What do you mean?'_

'_Am I here because you needed the company or because you can't let go?'_

_I focused on the book I was reading and didn't answer._

'I'm not. Seriously. You'd understand if you were there.' I replied honesty. Dumbledore scanned my face – and probably my mind – for any hint to suggest otherwise, but apparently found none.

'Very well.' He sighed. 'But please don't be so rash in the future. At least let others know.'

'Yes sir.'

* * *

_Y'know, it's probably not fair that you simply slingshot over what you want in the Room while everyone else has to work for it._

_Yeah, but they don't have a megalomaniacal Dark Lord after their lives, do they?_

* * *

Y'know, the more I learn about the magical world – it's just plain incorrect to call it the wizarding world – the more I realise just how backwards and archaic it is. They don't even have electric lights – although understandable given that electronics go haywire due to magical interference. But they still use quills, and dress in style from the medieval times. The muggle world had continued to evolve and adapt to the changing world and the magical one had stagnated and stilled, unwilling to change from out-dated, unfair customs.

Even the way witches and wizards treat themselves and other races is appalling. Discounting the stupidity of supposed blood-purity, you've still got the fact that they treat all the other races as below them. House-Elves and Goblins in particular. House-Elves simple had a slave's life, but the Goblins were dangerous if they got pissed.

They controlled the entire world's supply of gold. One spark to set off the proverbial powder keg and the goblins close their doors, and the economy collapses overnight. Chances are that's what Voldemort's hoping for. It's his _modus operandi_: find the races pushed down by the wizards, and offer them power. It's how he got the werewolves, it's how he got the giants, it's how he got the vampires and the godforsaken Dementors.

Everyone's looking to me to save the world. They've never asked if I thought it was worth saving.

It wasn't.

But sure, I'm going to save the world. I'm just going to bring it crashing down first.

* * *

_What happens when you lose everything?_

_You just start again._

_You start all over again_

* * *

_The Next Day_

I'm bobbing on the soles of my feet today. My friends were coming! Fantastic Ronald and brilliant Hermione. Lovely Luna and brave Neville. Not to mention Ginny…

I was in the Great Hall waiting. The four tables stayed put all year round but the floating candles and bronzed cutlery were missing unless required. Damn it Dumbledore, what the hell's taking so long?

Just as the thought occurs, the massive wooden doors creak open and the forms of Dumbledore, my friends, Neville's grandmother (complete with vulture hat.) and Mr and Mrs Weasley enter the Hall. I stand up, and for the first time in a long, long time I'm smiling with genuine happiness.

Of course, Hermione reaches me first. She wraps her arms around me in a fierce embrace, and I reciprocate, picking her up and swinging her around, laughing. 'Hey, 'Mione.' I said, grinning.

'I missed you so much. Thank god you're alright!' She cried. I smile, then quietly replied. 'I missed you too, Hermione.' I chuckled and then added as an afterthought. 'You smell nice.' And she did. Cinnamon and strawberries.

Hermione giggled in a most un-Hermione-like manner, and then said 'Thanks.' Then she seemed to realise something and glanced at Ron uncertainly, who I noticed had a strange look on his face. Something's happened. But it can wait.

'RONNIE RONALDO!' I yell as I slip out from Hermione's arms and jump over to where the others were. Ron grinned and we had a totally manly and cool hug. 'You seem chipper.' He noted dryly. 'Good to see you mate.'

'Course I'm chipper, I've got my best mates here!' I've got the goofiest grin ever on my face, but I hardly care.

Ron smiles bemusedly, but was happy nonetheless. He's probably wondering how I could be in such a good mood even after everything that had happened such a short while ago. (At least to him.) the rest of the greetings proceed similarly. The Weasley matriarch takes me into a bone-crushing hug and thanks me for saving Ginny. Mr Weasley shook my hand and did the same. Neville and Luna were in similar vein to Ron and Hermione's, and Augusta Longbottom proved to be just as Neville made her out to be.

'Mister Potter, I've heard good things.' She stated. Her voice was reminiscent of Professor McGonagall's, a tad cold and intimidating. I shake her hand genially and reply with a 'Thank you.'

Just then I realised something – which was that someone was missing. 'Where's Ginny?' I inquired. Mrs Weasley answered: 'She wanted to see Dean. Tonks is playing Chaperone though.'

'Oh. I see.' That had hurt a lot more than it should have, and I don't know why. Given the look on Ron's face at the mention of this, he didn't like it much either. Pretty sure it was for different reasons though.

Eventually, the adults leave to sort out the rooms for their stay. As soon as they do, Hermione turns to me and states: 'You're far too happy.'

'What, can't a guy be happy?'

'Considering things, no.' Neville chimed in.

'It could be the geminatums. They can produce euphoria in humans.' Luna suggested in her usual dreamy tone.

'I don't think so, Luna.' Hermione said impatiently.

I sigh before explaining what had happened since escaping Voldemort. By the time I was finished, Hermione was awe-struck. 'How come I never thought to use the Room like that?' I smile at her amused, before telling her: 'You're too honest.'

'So you're actually a hundred and fifteen?' Ron asked. 'I think we're gonna need a couple more candles for the cake…'

I laugh before slapping Ron on the shoulder. 'Don't worry, I'm the same old me.'

Neville however, had taken on a thoughtful look. 'Why did you _need _to do it though, Harry?'

I eye him, half annoyed, half proud that he had put that much thought into it. 'Put it this way – 'I began. 'It's the same reason Voldemort wants me dead so much.' I finish cryptically.

'Which is what, Harry?' Luna asked. 'Have you stolen his thetan?'

'His…isn't that a Scientology term for soul?' Hermione asked surprised that such a muggle term would be in Luna's vocabulary.

Luna smiled. 'Many things go by many different names.' She said, before staring off into space again.

I blinked at that. His soul…there was no way Luna had mentioned that on a coincidence. Could she know about Voldemort's Horcruxes? I doubted it – It had taken me years to connect my scar to soul magic and then to Horcruxes. _Y'know, I should really mention that to Dumbledore…_

But then again, Luna had a way of knowing things everyone else didn't.

'What makes you say that, Luna?'

'Just a hunch.' She replied dreamily. It was probably the best answer I was going to get, so I didn't push it.

'Not quite.' I tell them. 'But it's big and…' I trailed off. Should I tell them? I'd just be putting them in danger. No; they had fought for the bloody thing. They deserved to know.

'I'll tell you all when Ginevra gets here. I can't be bothered explaining it twice.'

The four didn't seem to like that, but recognised that I wasn't going to budge. Then I remembered a few things.

'Oh, Hermione, I need a favour.'

Hermione perked up. 'What is it?'

I hesitated, and then ignoring my slight embarrassment told her: 'I need you to take me shopping. You're the only one who knows muggle shopping places.'

Ron snorted. 'The great Harry Potter needs someone to help him shop.'

'Shut up.' I grumble. 'I basically need a new wardrobe.' Well, to be honest I needed a new everything. All my books were gone, as was the Firebolt and every other trinket except the Marauder's Map and invisibility cloak, which Dumbledore had given back to me.

'Sure thing Harry.' Hermione smiled. 'You need a suit for the Dursley's funeral, don't you?' She said, the smile fading to a look of sympathy. I nodded silently in confirmation.

We lapsed in an awkward silence after that. For a few minutes no one said anything, until Neville broke the silence. 'What's happening with Dumbledore's Army this year?' He asked.

I grinned. Not quite a happy grin, and more a weary-yet-enthusiastic grin.

'Something big.'

* * *

Jackson Tibus wasn't a happy wizard. The plan had been for Potter to die in the Dark Lord's hands. Not make some spectacular escape! And how did he survive the Killing Curse? The boy was special, there was no doubt about it. But no one could survive the Killing Curse the way Voldemort told him he had. There was no love magic there.

Jackson sighed. There was nothing to be done, and the rest of the pieces were falling into place. The attack on the Ministry would proceed as planned.

Potter would get his due eventually.

* * *

_**A/N:**__ I liked that. We're setting up for the main story now. As always, any mistakes, comments or criticisms are welcome._

_Chill._


	3. Sanity Is Overrated

_**Disclaimer: **__What?_

_**A/N: **__Is it wrong to be pleased with critical reviews? Thank you for pointing out any mistakes and for raising a few issues. I'm literally writing this as it comes to mind, so some things are going to get juggled about a lot. Let's just say I have half a plan for things like Harry's mental state and Ginny's strange behaviour, and the Ministry and political stuff should come in in a chapter or two._

* * *

_**Harry Potter and the Broken Miracle**_

_Chapter Three – Sanity Is Overrated_

"_Madness, as you know, is like gravity. All it takes is a little push." ~ The Joker, "The Dark Knight"_

Voldemort looked expectantly at the closest thing he had to a colleague. Tibus was a valued asset to the cause, even if he was in it for his own agenda. But right now he was being little more than an irritation.

'How could you lose a fifteen year old?' He snapped. 'A fifteen year old who you had tortured and broken. And you didn't even ask him anything!' It was doubtful the brat had anything to offer – the prophecy had been lost to both of them.

'I…overestimated him.' Voldemort admitted. He had been so confident that Harry would be too weak to fight back effectively. The boy had an annoying tendency to pull off incredible feats when the situation called for it. He wouldn't make that mistake in the future.

'And what the hell did you think you were doing, trying to kill my sleeper agent? I didn't spend hours at the World Cup waiting for a chance to enchant her for nothing!'

Voldemort rolled his eyes. 'You mean the sleeper agent which has done nothing for us?'

Tibus took offense to that. 'How do you expect me to use her? Have her assassinate Dumbledore in his sleep?' He retorted sarcastically. Voldemort already had a plan for that, and they both knew it. 'She is a unique asset. One I'm not going to squander pointlessly.'

'We don't even know if you were successful in enchanting her.' Voldemort pointed out.

'We were.' Tibus stated simply. 'It's why she's suddenly developed an apparent dislike of Potter.' He added smugly. 'It might just be testing the waters, but it could have a knock on effect on Potter.'

'And her blood-traitor family simply accepted her change in behaviour?'

Tibus was getting more and more irritated with every criticism. 'I am not a fool, _Riddle._' He spat. 'There's a second, radiative charm working alongside to disguise her personality changes.'

Voldemort let the name slide, but would not accept the challenge to his authority. 'You forget your place Jackson.' He whispered the threat apparent in his tone.

'No, Voldemort.' He replied. 'You forget yours. I work _with _you. _Not for you._ And you would do well to remember that.'

* * *

_Hogwarts Castle_

'Professor, there is no way Harry is alright.' Hermione stated. Ron and herself were in the Headmaster's office, and Dumbledore himself sat behind his desk looking at them expectantly.

'He was just tortured to near-death.' She continued. 'And then he just spent a century in the Room of Requirement alone! He should be insane by any count, not…_happy_.'

Insane, paranoid, hallucinating…she could think of a dozen mental conditions he should have but didn't exhibit.

Dumbledore sighed wearily. 'I share your concerns, but there is simply no way to assess his mental state in the school while he is only surrounded by trusted friends, and I am loath to remove him from that.'

Ron had been thoughtful for most of the exchange, but chose that moment to add his input. 'I reckon he's running.'

Hermione was just confused, but the Headmaster was intriguied. 'Go on, Mister Weasley.'

'Well…' He began slowly. 'He comes out of being captured acting like nothing's happened. Then he spends a hundred years alone _studying._ I think he's pushed it down so far he can barely remember it, and keeps himself so busy he can't stop to think about it.'

Hermione stared at him dumbfounded, but impressed. 'What? I'm not as stupid as people think.' Ron said.

Dumbledore considered Ron's hypothesis. 'An excellent theory, Mister Weasley, and quite likely correct.'

He stood up and paced around his office, frowning. 'You and Harry are going shopping tomorrow, correct Miss Granger?' He asked.

'Yes sir.' Hermione answered.

Dumbledore nodded to himself. 'I'll arrange with Alastor to escort you. I ask that you keep an eye on him. Try not to push too hard, I feel that it would not be in his interests to have a break with reality in an open environment like London.'

Hermione nodded, although she felt slightly guilty about essentially spying on one of her best friends.

Dumbledore gestured the duo towards the door. 'Now, I believe it is nearly time for supper, and your sister is due to arrive with Tonks.'

* * *

I was with Neville, Luna and the others in the Great Hall. Dinner had just begun and I was tucking into a lovely meal of steak pie and mashed potatoes. Ron and Hermione were had gone to see Dumbledore to ask about something to do with Prefects.

Obviously, they're lying, but there's not much I can do about it.

I heard footsteps from the Entrance Hall and turn in my seat to see the forms of Nymphadora Tonks and Ginny approaching. I grinned and pushed my plate away and stood up with the others to greet them.

'Hi Gin-'I began, but she simply brushed past me to greet her parents. _What the fuck?_ I turn around to see her casually talking to Mr and Mrs Weasley. Neville has a confused look on his face too. He glanced at me and I shrugged in a _what-makes-you-think-I-know_ way. Something weird was going on.

'Wotcher, Harry, Neville.' Tonks calls. I turn and smile at her, before replying. 'Hiya, Nymphadora.'

'Don't call me that.'

'Sure thing, _Nymphadora._' I chuckled. 'What's with the gray hair?'

Tonks frowns, and then remembers. 'It's nothing…' She said defensively. I winced when I realised that she was Sirius' cousin. She was probably still mourning him. For her he had only died a few weeks ago.

'How was babysitting, Tonks?' Neville asked amused, cutting the awkwardness short. 'Boring as hell.' She laughed.

Babysitting. That begins a train of thought in my head. Ginny had just been captured by Voldemort, and her parents were happy to let her go off with a boyfriend she had only been dating for a short while? Not to mention that no one seemed to be overly concerned about her. No one was fussing over her, or even seemed to remember that she had been in trouble. And then there was Ginny's behaviour itself.

Yes, something was amiss.

Before I could think on it any further Ron, Hermione and Professor Dumbledore entered. They walked up to where the little group had gathered, where Dumbledore then addressed them.

'Augusta, Molly, Arthur: you can return home tomorrow if you wish – the Order has finished warding your homes.' The three thanked him for his thoughtfulness which Dumbledore brushed aside. Then he turned to me.

'I have arranged Alastor to accompany you and Miss Granger to London.' He informed me. I nodded, before glancing at Ginny again. Something was definitely off there. Could I tell him? Then again, he hadn't noticed that anything was off, just like the others – though Neville seemed to be an exception.

'Everything alright, Harry?' Ron asked, noticing my off behaviour. 'Yeah, fine. Just peachy.' What was I supposed to say? I think your sister is possessed? No, I'll look into this later.

* * *

The next day, Hermione and I were waiting for our escort in the Entrance Hall. I was dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans, and Hermione was wearing a cream blouse and black skirt. Hermione had a strange look on her face, as though she wanted to ask me something but was scared.

'Penny for your thoughts?' I prod gently, nudging her with my arm. She starts, and then quietly asks: 'Did you study any –um- dark magic while you were in the Room?'

I sigh. I really didn't want to get into this. 'Yes..'

'Why?' Hermione pressed. I eyed her, wondering how best to proceed. 'Do you need to throw a punch to block it?'

'What?' Hermione asked, nonplussed.

'Can you block a punch without having to throw one?' I repeat.

'Well…I guess so.'

I smile then continue. 'Exactly. You can learn all about defending yourself from the Dark Arts without ever casting a dark spell yourself. I learned about them. Doesn't mean I plan on using them.' And I really didn't. Most of it was just too nasty or unnecessarily complex. Just don't piss me off though…

'But aren't you concerned about the addictive side-effects?' Hermione asked, the academic in her winning out.

I shake my head and explained. 'The Dark Arts themselves aren't evil, or addictive for the most part. It's a psychological thing.'

Hermione was interested now. 'How so?'

'Nine times out of ten, what happens is that someone finds a dark spell, then uses it for whatever reason. The caster enjoys the fact that he can have such power over another person – y'know, cause them pain, kill them, whatever, and then does it again. And again. They become addicted to the power they think it gives them and learn more.' I finish, before voicing an afterthought. 'And then you become a snake-faced bastard that fails to kill babies.'

Hermione laughs at that before sighing. 'You're so much smarter than me now…' She lamented.

Now it's my turn to laugh uproariously. 'I'm nowhere near as smart as you!' She shook her head. 'You probably know more than I do about magic.' She said sadly.

Hermione had always prided herself on being the smartest of us. Although she's never actually told us as much, I can guess that she probably had a less than stellar relationship with her primary school peers. The lack of friends meant that she found her solace in books, and learning. After all, friends can be unpredictable, and heart-breaking, but facts always make sense, and can't hurt you out of themselves for the most part.

'That doesn't mean I'm smarter.' I tell her softly. 'I could never work things out the way you do, or come up with ideas like you or anything like that.' I smile at her. 'You're brilliant.'

Hermione smiled and kissed me on the cheek. 'Thank you.' She said quietly.

We spent the next few minutes discussing our itinerary for the day when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

I don't know what happened next but there was a gasp from Hermione and an unconscious Mad-Eye Moody on the ground. I had stunned him without thinking. I couldn't even remember drawing my wand.

A few seconds later, Hermione had drawn her wand and said '_Reenervate.' _in a clear voice. The tip glowed a light shade of red for a moment, and then Mad-Eye began to stir.

'What happened?' He asked groggily.

'I sorta stunned you.' I admit sheepishly. _Why the hell did I do that?_ Hermione was looking at me with a worried frown on her face. There was going to be hell to pay later, I was sure.

I offered him a hand to help him up, which he accepted readily. 'Sorry, Mad-Eye.' I apologised guiltily.

'Not to worry, Potter, I'd have done the same.' He brushed himself off, before scrutinising the pair of us. He pulled out a length of rope from his trench coat.

'We're going to the Leaky Cauldron using a portkey.' He indicated the rope. 'Then to Gringotts and wherever else you need.'

'Thanks for taking us.' I said. He snorted. 'Got nothing better to do. The Death Eaters have been quiet for ages.'

Hermione was still frowning. 'Mister Moody, what'll happen when the muggles see you?'

She had a point. Mad-Eye was probably more conspicuous than Hagrid, given the massive electric blue eye, scarred face and a magical prosthetic leg. "Sore thumb" would be a bit of an understatement.

'We'll be fine.' He grunted dismissively. Hermione and I share a look, and then shrug in acceptance. We both reached out for the rope and we did, Moody activated the portkey with a tap of his wand. The rope glowed blue, and there was a tugging sensation behind my navel. The world spun for a few seconds, and then just as Moody had said we were unceremoniously deposited in what I recognised to be the foyer of the Leaky Cauldron, London.

Why the hell can't I use any mode of magical transport other than a broom without landing on my arse? Seriously, it's not cool. Mad-Eye and Hermione managed to stay upright while I'm on the floor like a fucking idiot.

I get to my feet grumbling, while the other two laugh.

'C'mon, Potter, the day's a wastin'.' Moody grunted, before making his way into the pub proper. I and a still-smiling Hermione follow. We enter the main room, and it's just the same as I remember – an old fashioned pub. Witches and wizards are milling about – not many since it's about 9 o'clock in the morning, but still a fair few.

And just as I expected, they all instantly fell silent in shock at my arrival.

_All hail Harry, king of kickassery! Not really…_

Tom the amicable barman and owner of the Leaky Cauldron was the first to speak up. 'Glad to see you're alright, Mister Potter.'

That reminded me of something. I had no idea what had been said by the papers about my disappearance. After ten minutes of fighting through the crowd – difficult despite Mad-Eyes overly dangerous threats, we were in the small alleyway at the back of the pub and while the ex-auror set about opening up the wall to Diagon Alley, I decided to ask Hermione.

'Hey, what did the _Daily Prophet _make of me being captured?'

Hermione although startled, turns to me and replies. 'It got kept quiet for a while, but when Scrimgeour became Minister and order half the Auror Office to search for you it kind of became a daily headline.'

'Scrimgeour?' I ask. Never heard of the guy.

'Former Head of the Auror Office.' Moody answered as the wall began to open up and reveal Diagon Alley.

'Oh. Any good?'

Moody snorted. 'He's not as bad as Fudge.'

'That's not saying much.' I said in amusement. Anyone could outshine the idiocy of Cornelius Fudge.

'Apparently he was quite keen to find you; he obviously thinks you've a big part to play in things.' Hermione stated. More than you know, Hermione, more than you know…

We make our way up the winding Alley. It was no longer the wondrous and colourful vibrant shopping district I remembered. With the pleasing exception of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes – obviously Fred and George's joke shop – many of the shops had fallen into disrepair, abandoned and boarded up. Wanted and Missing posters were plastered all over. The shoppers moved around in stifled, close-knit groups. It was depressing.

As we moved up the alley to the white marble of Gringott's bank, I began to feel less and less secure. Just a general feeling of paranoia and fear. The large group of people in the small pub hadn't helped. Hermione obviously picked up in my change of state. 'Harry, are you alright? You keep glancing around.'

'I'm fine.' I ground out. She knew I wasn't.

'If you don't want to –'

'I'm fine, Hermione!' I snap, then instantly feel bad. 'I'm sorry.'

'It's okay.' She said.

What was happening to me? I'm fine. Nothing can get me. Nothing can get me…

Thankfully, we reach Gringott's quickly and enter through the massive steel doors. Did you know that this particular branch of Gringott's was the second to be built in 1694, following the first which was built in 1657 in Swedon? And that it was the only branch not to have been successfully taken by the wizards in the Goblin rebellion of 1824? God I'm such a nerd…

We walk up to the first teller we can find. His little nameplate reads "Bloodtooth". So cheery.

'Yes?' Bloodtooth growled. Rude little bugger, he is.

'I'd like to make a withdrawal please.' I tell him pleasantly.

'How much?'

'Let's say about two – no, three hundred galleons and…' I glanced at Hermione questionly. She answered 'About a thousand pounds.'

'And a thousand in muggle pounds.' I finish.

Bloodtooth grumbled something under his breath – "Arrogant wizards" in gobbledegook – and jumps down from his desk and disappears out of sight.

I sighed, before muttering to Hermione. 'The Ministry really does need to make sure they don't piss these guys off.' Hermione nodded in agreement.

A few minutes later, Bloodtooth returned with a sack of galleons and a stack of crisp muggle bank notes. I take them and shove them into the magically-expanded satchel I had brought for the occasion. 'May your gold shine brightly.' I tell Bloodtooth, before leaving the goblin blinking in surprise that I knew such a custom.

We blitzed through the Alley, visiting _Madam Malkin's_ robe shop, _Flourish and Blott's_ (Hermione didn't want to leave), and a dozen others, replacing pretty much all the magical stuff I had lost. I had reluctantly ordered a new Firebolt via mail order to replace the one Sirius gave me, so we glazed over _Quality Quidditch Supplies_. All the packages were shrunk with magic and stuffed into my satchel. After a quick bite in the Leaky Cauldron, we decided to take on muggle London.

To say that Mad-Eye attracted attention was an understatement. People stared, muttered, and on more than one occasion, moved to the other side of the road. Since neither Moody nor I knew about clothes shopping in London, we opted to let Hermione direct us.

We were in and out of more shops than I could count. Moody waited outside each shop while Hermione basically told me what to try on and buy, and tried on stuff herself. As stupid as it might sound, I had never realised the studious Hermione had such a girly side to her. She was enjoying using me as some sort of bloody fashion doll. I didn't have the heart to call her on it though, and I could honestly say she looked incredible in everything she tried on. And we went to get a cheap new watch she had seen a bracelet she liked and I ended up buying it for her, which had her squealing and hugging me. I'm the best friend slash pseudo-brother ever, apparently.

It was fun, doing something normal like this. I doubt Mad-Eye felt the same though, and I think that if I were to admit as much to Ron and Neville they'd be calling me a pansy for a month.

However…there was a problem. The large crowds were making me more and more uneasy, and I jumped involuntarily every time someone brushed against me. There was an uncomfortable feeling in my chest. Thankfully we just needed the damn suit for the funeral and it was back to Hogwarts.

Hermione had taken us to a shop which sold appropriate suits, and had told me to pick something. She hadn't liked my choice.

'What the hell is that!' She cried incredulously. 'You look like an old man!'

Well, technically I _am _a hundred and fifteen…I was wearing a tweed jacket, trouser braces and a shirt, with an awesome bowtie to top off the ensemble.

'What?' I ask innocently.

'You're wearing a bowtie, for Merlin's sake!' She laughed.

I straighten the offending item and retort. 'Bowties are cool.'

Hermione rolled her eyes, before shoving a much less outlandish black suit into my hands. 'Get in there and put this on.' She ordered sternly. I sighed, before going back into the changing booth and doing as she said.

Once I exited: 'I feel stupid.'

Hermione rolled her eyes again. 'You're going to a funeral; I don't think it'll matter.'

I sigh, before getting changed back into my original clothes. We went up to the cashier to buy the boring black suit.

'Can I at least get the bowtie?'

* * *

She didn't let me. And to my mounting unease, Moody had decided to simply eat in London since we had missed dinner back at the school. So now we were in a bloody McDonald's being stared at by everyone because of the guy with the freaky eye and pegleg. And didn't have a clue what a Big Mac was.

I was uneasy. All day I had been getting more and more nervous, and the tightening sensation in my chest was getting worse. I kept glancing around, and I wanted out badly. Too many people. Too many fucking people.

Everywhere I look, I'm seeing faces I know. Faces of Death Eaters. Bellatrix Lestrange just walked past the window with Fenrir Grayback on a lead. What the hell?

I really don't feel good. Too many people. Death Eaters? Death Eaters in a McDonald's? That's hilarious. Now Hermione's and Mad-Eye are staring at me 'cause I'm laughing. Why am I laughing again? Oh yeah, Death Eaters in a McDonald's. They probably wouldn't like the milkshakes. Strawberries…

The world went black, and everything stopped.

* * *

_Hogwarts Castle – Twenty Minutes Later_

Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was not a happy man. He had been called from his home in Spinner's End to Hogwarts and told that the Potter brat had gone comatose. What was he supposed to do about it? It was Pomfrey's job, not his.

Nevertheless, he had come and upon arrival had been ushered into the Hospital Wing and told to check Potter for dark magic. Given that Pomfrey had already checked, he hadn't bothered to take out his wand.

'He snapped, Albus.' He drawled. 'Went off the deep end.'

'Don't talk about him like that!' The Weasley boy snapped.

'Nevertheless, Weasley –' Snape could care less if the boy was scared for his friend, he would address the boy however he pleased. '- it is the truth.'

Longbottom, Lovegood, Granger and the two Weasleys were present – although the younger one seemed more bored than anything else – along with Albus and Minerva.

'The stress of the past few weeks has caught up with him and driven him over the edge. The mind couldn't cope, so it shut down. Simple.' Even Pompfrey could've told them that.

'Is there anything you can do, Severus?' Albus prompted hopefully. Severus doubted it. 'Unlikely, Headmaster, there is few potions which even relate to this sort of thing.'

'Maybe he's on a spirit walk.' The insufferable girl Lovegood murmured in her irritating light tone.

Spirit walk. Severus thought about that, and a possibility came to mind. As much as he wished for the brat to disappear, he knew Lily would never forgive him for failing to do the best for her son.

'Actually, Headmaster…there may be one thing that could help.'

'What is it?' Boy Weasley demanded. He was about to get slapped if he didn't hold his tongue.

'Does it matter?' Girl Weasley asked. That surprised Severus, he had thought she had a crush on Potter, but in fact seemed to despise him. He made a note of that.

He tried to speak again, but was cut off by Longbottom reprimanding Weasley girl. 'How can you say it doesn't matter, after all he's done for you?'

Severus rolled his eyes. He had better things to do than listen to a bunch of hormonal teens argue with each other. 'As I was saying, there is a potion called the _Elixir of the Heart_. It is incredibly complex, and I mean complex – the last successfully brewed potion was thirty years ago. And the last potion that actually worked was _seventy _years ago.'

'How does it work?' Granger asked. Bloody know-it-all.

'It's a "smart" potion if you will. It takes the drinker through a metaphysical journey of their own mind; confront their own demons so to speak. If they are successful, they should wake up more or less mentally stable, if a little eccentric.' He paused. 'However, if the drinker fails to deal with their mental issues, then they'll sink even deeper into the coma, practically becoming impossible to awaken.'

'Why doesn't everyone use it?' Weasley boy again. Snape swore he was going to poison him one day.

'If you had bothered to listen: it is complicated, risky and expensive. It is not to be used lightly.'

'Can you make it, Severus?' Albus asked. He took offense to that. 'I have never tried before, but yes I can. It doesn't take long to make, just a lot of skill.'

He wouldn't do it for Potter though. He'd do it for Lily, and because it had been a while since he had had a good challenge.

'Please, then Severus, make this Elixer with all haste.'

* * *

Three days, several temper tantrums and most of Snape's stock of rare potion ingredients later, the potion was ready. Thankfully, when he arrived to administer the potion in the Hospital Wing, only Dumbledore and the matron were present.

Dumbledore nodded silently. _Give him the potion._

Snape carefully opened Potter's mouth, and slowly poured vial containing the amber-coloured connoction into the mouth, allowing him time to swallow and not gag or splutter. When finished, he closed the boy's mouth and pocketed the vial.

'What happens now?' Pomfrey asked.

'If he breathes gold vapour, the potion has worked and has taken effect.' Snape stated simply. The three watched Potter for a while – the Headmaster and Pomfrey worriedly, and Snape boredly. After a few minutes, Potter began to exhale golden wisps of smoke. The elixir was working.

'It's up to Potter now.' Snape said, then realising the ramifications of that: 'He's doomed.'

* * *

I was alone, and I was scared. All around me there was nothing save white mist and fog. Part of me thought I had gone back to Limbo.

'Helloo?' I called out. Nothing. Not even an echo.

For what seemed like an eternity, I stood there, unsure, uneasy, and scared. How had I got here? Something to do with…a McDonald's?

That was important, I'm sure. McDonald's are evil.

Eventually, I noticed a figure approaching me through the fog, and soon it turned into the last person I had expected to see.

'_Malfoy?_'

* * *

_**A/N:**__ I had a helluva lotta fun writing this chapter, I must say. And I think I could probably turn this into a Harry/Hermione fic if I wanted, given some of the stuff in the chapter. I'll leave it to you, readers. Well, maybe. As always, feel free to point out mistakes and discuss issues and criticisms._

_Toodles._


	4. Inside The Mind Of Harry James Potter

_**Disclaimer: **__You guys do know no one reads these things?_

_**A/N: **__Well, no one seems to be for Harry/Hermione soo…(throws away alternate ending). I was just seeing if the interest was there. And I'll say it now: What I did with the RoR was so cheap. But, for the purposes of the story, I wanted Harry to be powerful, yet not so much that he can beat everyone without trying. The line I'm taking is that he's got 100 years of knowledge but no real experience of applying it._

* * *

_**Harry Potter and the Broken Miracle**_

_Chapter Four– Inside The Mind Of Harry James Potter_

"_Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be_

_There's a shadow hanging over me_

_Oh, yesterday came suddenly." ~ The Beatles, "Yesterday"_

'_Malfoy?'_ I croak in disbelief. This party had just gotten even more fucked up. Nonetheless, Draco Malfoy, wearing what I realised was the supposedly stylish muggle suit Hermione had made me buy.

'Right, Potter –' Malfoy drawled. 'I haven't got all day, so let's get this over and done with.'

I stared at him dumbfounded. 'Uhh…get what over and done with? Tell me it's not se-'

'Don't even finish that thought, Potter, this isn't some third-year girl's dream.' Malfoy snaps. I sighed with relief. That would've been fucking weird.

'So where are we then?' I ask. I've probably gone to the loony bin, but I've nothing else to do but play along.

Malfoy pulled out a clipboard from one of his pockets, and then consulted it. 'Well, apparently, Scarhead, we're in your mindspace.' He said.

'How's that then?' I ask. Malfoy got annoyed and snapped. 'How the hell should I know? I'm just a manifestation of your subconscious mind, you idiot.'

I scowled. 'Okay one: that means you're an idiot too, and two: why the fuck are you Malfoy then? Why not someone I like?' I ask him…I mean me…Ah, fuck. This was confusing.

Malfoy shrugged. 'Fuck knows. I think it's to do with you not trusting me, therefore you'll be objective rather than all chummy and distracted. I fell asleep during the board meeting.'

'My mind has a board?' I ask, amused. Malfoy nodded. 'Yup, Santa Claus is the chairman and Mickey Mouse is vice chairman.'

'Awesome.' I snorted. My subconscious has a sense of humour. I think I liked him more than the real Malfoy. That probably wasn't saying much though.

Malfoy consulted him clipboard again. 'Right, so apparently we're to go on a big fucking rollercoaster journey through your mind and memories and find the meaning of life, the universe and everything.' He sneered.

'Piece of piss: Forty-two. Everyone knows that, you jackass.'

Malfoy rolled his eyes in exasperation, and scored something off his clipboard. 'Least I don't need glasses…' He muttered. I took offense to that.

'Least I don't need a tub of hair-gel every day.' I retorted.

'Have you seen your hair? You haven't even heard of a fucking comb!'

Before I can argue back, he hastily said: 'Right, getting off track!' He lifted the page on his clipboard and read what was underneath. 'Okay, so we're now supposed to go on a big fucking rollercoaster journey through your mind and memories to deal with your angsty emo baggage, your reason for living and find the love of your life.' He frowned at that. 'What girl would want your ugly mug?'

'Cho Chang?' I snapped. I'm insulting myself. Fantastic.

'Doesn't count. She only went out with you 'cause she thought you could tell her about Diggory.'

'Ah, fuck you, Malfoy.' I told him. Cho counted damn it!

'Didn't I just say this wasn't a third-year's dream?' Malfoy asked in annoyance.

I rolled my eyes and ignored him. He's probably insecure about his sexuality or something. Wait…fuck. I hate this already.

'Let's just get this over and done with.'

* * *

_Hogwarts Castle_

It had been a day since the Elixir had been administered, and there was still no sign of change from Harry. According to Severus, there was no actual time limit on the potion but Albus was still worried.

They needed Harry. Albus just hoped that the potion worked and he returned to the land of the lucid.

Albus sighed, and not for the first time that day, paced around the office. His plethora of magical devices beeped and hissed and produced smoke and light in a synesthesiac symphony, but offered him little more than that.

And then there was Voldemort, and the wildcard of Jackson Tibus. Both of them had been quiet since Harry's escape, and Dumbedore didn't like it. Voldemort was planning something big according to Severus, but had been unable to tell him what. And they still had no idea on Tibus' alignment.

Fawkes was staring at him from his perch, and Albus distractedly stroked his red and gold plumage.

'Dark times lie ahead, don't they?' He asked the bird familiar. It didn't answer, but the answer was obvious, it really didn't have to.

* * *

'Okay –' Malfoy said. 'Part one of the magical mystery tour: Your baggage.'

I rolled my eyes. I didn't have any "baggage".

'Yes, yes you do.' Malfoy insisted. 'You're a contradiction to psychology, you somehow managed to come out of being tortured and then spend a century with a ghost of your dead muttfather without any obvious problems, but go off the deep end in a McDonald's.' He scowled.

Okay, he had a point. Didn't see how he could fix that though. 'And what're you gonna do about it?'

Malfoy glanced at his clipboard again. I doubted he actually needed it, but I guess it was just my sense of humour. 'Apparently, we're supposed to pick up a friend first, and then show you memories of your time in captivity to help you accept and come to terms with what you've been through.' He groaned.

A friend? This was getting interesting. Can't say I was too keen on the memories though. I sighed wearily. There was nothing to be done. 'Fine. Let's go.'

Malfoy nodded, before snapping his fingers rather overdramatically. The white mist shifted, and dispersed, changing into a rundown bedroom, with peeling green and pink flowery wallpaper and a carpetless floor. There were no fixtures or furnishings with the exception of a small, battered chair underneath the single window with a potted plant on top.

Malfoy looked just as confused as I was. 'It's not the plant is it?' I ask him sarcastically. He shrugged in response. 'It's your mind. How should I know?'

'Well, hello there.' A voice muttered. Malfoy and I look around for the source of the voice, and realise that it actually was the plant. The highermost leaves had pulled together into something that could be called a mouth.

'Yes, I'm a talking plant.' The plant spoke again in a deep baritone voice. Two of its leaves reached behind the pot and pulled out a cigarette and a sliver zippo lighter. It lit the cigarette, and took a drag. 'You got a problem with that?'

I glanced at Malfoy, who seemed to be highly amused by the situation. I had just lost all grip of understanding of what was going on. 'I guess not?' I told him, confused but deciding to roll with it.

'Damn straight.' The plant said. 'The name's Marshall.'

Malfoy nodded. 'Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. Apparently you're supposed to help up fix Harry's mental state?'

Listen, no offense but I think most would say that a smoking, talking plant would be classed as a symptom of insanity, as opposed to something that could help.

'Sure, I'll help ya.' Marshall said. Okay, this just turned into the bloody _Little Shop of Horrors._

Malfoy nodded, and snapped his fingers again.

* * *

Watchwizard Jim took another sip of his coffee as he surveyed the various security instruments set up around the Ministry of Magic. There were indicators for the status of the wards, dark magic detectors, and a plane of clear glass that gave a similar function to a muggle security camera system.

Of course, there was nothing of interest.

Jim sighed again and propped his feet up on the desk in his cramped office. Even with You-Know-You's return, disruption to Ministry work had been little, although Scrimgeour had ordered screenings of any employee exhibiting suspicious behaviour. You-Know-Who hadn't launched any attacks on the Ministry though, and that was something.

Jim was so complacent that nothing would harm him that he failed to notice the black-robed Death Eater behind him, or the whispered "_Avada Kedavra_" that ended his life.

* * *

The world changed from the rundown bedroom to a dark and dungy stone cell. There was little light, and there was a dishevelled figure chained to the far wall. I realised with a start that it was me. My hair was long and greasy, and my clothes were a shredded mess. I was sporting a dozen cuts and bruises.

I turned to Malfoy and Marshall. 'This is from my captivity, isn't it?' I asked. I really didn't want to see this.

'Yeah.' Malfoy answered. 'You've pushed it down so far you can't remember but you need to accept that it happened and deal with it.'

The door to the cell creaked open and the insanity-made-corporal Bellatrix Lestrange entered, cackling. A sinking feeling began to settle in the pit of my stomach. I _really _didn't want to see this.

'This is probably the worst torture session you went through.' Malfoy said, and for the first time ever (sort of) I heard what could be mistaken for a tone of sympathy from the blond wizard.

'You gonna get fucked up!' Marshall yelled. I was barely paying attention though, as the dreadful scene began in earnest.

''_Wittle Potter gonna crwy?' _Lestrange taunted, tracing her wand over my cheek. There was little to show I had responded save a slight tilt of the head. '_Since you're sooo bored of the Cruciatus Curse, I thought we might try something a little…different.'_ She smirked.

With mounting dread, I realised what she was going to do when she leaned in and began to kiss me roughly on the neck. Swallowing, I turned to Malfoy again. 'Tell me she isn't.' I begged. She couldn't. She couldn't do that to me.

Malfoy said nothing. With sickened realisation I turned back to watch the depraved and horrifying scene. _What happens when you can't stand reality? You snap._

'What's the point of this?' I ask. I'm not sure I care too much. I feel dirty. Peverted. Nothing really mattered.

'To show you that it happened.' Malfoy explained simply. 'And why did I need to be shown?' I snapped. Why would anyone want to know this? Sometimes ignorance is bliss.

Marshall was the one to respond: 'You accept it and move on. Deal with it. You've got friends that can help you heal.'

'I shouldn't need to heal!' I shouldn't have known in the first place! I was happy not knowing this had happened to me.

Malfoy seemed to have a thought on the matter. 'Okay, fine. We don't tell you, and for years you're fine. Then one day it gets set off and all hell breaks loose. Is that what you want?' He growled.

With a final, sickening scream, the act finishes, and Bellatrix departs, leaving a weeping Harry Potter chained to the wall.

I sighed, and wiped a tear from my eye. 'Just get me the fuck out of here.'

* * *

_Of course it is inside your head, Harry, but why on Earth should that mean it's not real?_

* * *

_The Ministry of Magic_

Ever since he had been sworn in as Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour had not had an easy life. As head of the Auror Office, he was probably one of the most suitable candidates for a Minister in wartime – but war was his forte. Running a government wasn't.

The Death Eaters had mercifully been silent since Harry Potter's escape from them, although he doubted it would last. It was more than likely they were planning a massed attack, probably the Ministry itself. He had been able to recall all the Auror's who had been on the countrywide man-hunt for Harry Potter, which meant the Ministry was at full strength should the Death Eater's come to call.

Harry Potter. The boy was an enigma. The stories of his exploits were well known at the Ministry, and if the rumours were true, the boy was the only one capable of defeating Voldemort. It was imperative to get him under the Ministry's wing.

Rufus' musings were cut short when his Senior Undersecretary Delores Umbridge burst into his office, flustered. The hideous pink bow was askew and her cardigan was hanging off one shoulder. 'Death Eaters!' She squeaked. 'Ministry is under attack!'

The twenty plus years of experience as an Auror kicked in and Rufus was ready instantly. Drawing his wand, he marched out of his office towards the Atrium, calling back orders to Umbridge as he went.

'Get Dumbledore here, now!'

* * *

Explosions and gunfire roared overhead. All around me was muddy ditches. Trenches. There were soldiers dressed in old American Civil War-style uniforms rushing to and fro, clutching old Garland rifles. Where had Malfoy taken me now?

I poke my head over the trench wall, and immediately get pulled back down as bullets impacted near me, sending chips of mud and stone everywhere. It was Malfoy, now dressed in modern army fatigues, complete with helmet and automatic rifle. 'Easy, Potter!'

'Where the fuck are we?' I yelled over the gunfire. Malfoy raised his rifle and fired a burst of rounds at the unknown attackers before replying. 'You've now got to accept a fact about your life! C'mon!'

I followed him through the maze of trenches, moving past firing soldiers and wounded combatants. It was a scene out of an old war documentary. What am I supposed to learn here?

Eventually, Malfoy pulls us into a small alcove, where a number of high-ranking soldiers had gathered around a solid wooden table with a map on it. Marshall was there as well, wearing a tin helmet and somehow clutching a pistol.

'Commander Marshall –' _Seriously_? 'The Death Eaters are pressing hard across No Man's Land, we need reinforcements or we'll be overwhelmed.' A sergeant stated. The "Commander" leaned in to examine the map, and the leaves that made up its head – for lack of a better term – scrunched up in a frown.

'The reinforcements can't get in until Potter has his epiphany.' Marshall grunted. 'Until then, we've got to hold the line! We cannot run away from the fight.'

Hold the line? Almost instantly, everyone in the room turns to me expectantly. I just stared back dumbfounded. Then, a nearby explosion kicks everyone into action. The sergeant presses a rifle into my hands, and told me: 'Good luck. We're all counting on you.' I nodded back numbly.

Malfoy grabbed me by the arm and pulled me outside to the main battle. I slide down the trench wall and examine the rifle I had been given. Malfoy continued to fire over the sandbags, barking random combat terms to the other soldiers.

What was I supposed to realise? I'm assuming something to do with battle or war, but I just don't have a clue. _Wouldn't be the first time._

'Potter!' Malfoy roars. 'Do some shooting!'

I roll my eyes and stand, taking the place next to Malfoy on the firing step then raise the rifle and fire at an incoming Death Eater charging across the barren, ruined wasteland. The shot missed, and I had underestimated the recoil – I was knocked on my ass.

'Dammit Potter!' Malfoy roared. 'Don't eyeball it! Use the sights!'

I simply stared at him incredulously, but nevertheless step back up and take aim again, this time bracing myself for the blowback. I pulled the trigger and the gun fired again, and the Death Eater I had aimed at collapsed. Net zero?

Minutes passed in a similar fashion, with Malfoy and I taking potshots at the charging Death Eaters. What was my epiphany? Something to do with war. I suddenly flash back to what Marshall had said.

_We cannot run away from the fight._

Is that what Malfoy had meant? That I couldn't run or shy away from the war? The prophecy only said that I had to fight Voldemort at the end; I could hide away until such a time. I think that might've been Dumbledore's plan. And part of me would've wanted to.

But that just wouldn't be me, what with my hero complex and all. So I would throw myself into the war as best I could – I had the knowledge, if not the experience.

'POTTER'S GOT IT! ROLL IN THE REINFORCEMENTS!'

Malfoy yanked me down from the step and thumped me on the shoulder. 'Good work, Potter, I was expecting it to take longer.'

'Uhh…thanks?' I reply bemused. 'So…reinforcements?'

'You'll see.' Malfoy answered cryptically. Surprisingly, the battlefield fell silent; there was no more gunshots or explosions. I looked around expectantly, waiting to see a line of new soldiers or a column of armoured tanks. There was nothing.

But then, I realised I could hear screams across No Man's Land. Over the course of a minute I heard the screams, cries, and pleas of a Death Eater being slaughtered by an entity I could not see. I glanced at Malfoy, who was smirking.

'What is it?' I asked him. He simply nodded towards the firing step, and said: 'See for yourself, he's coming over now.'

Shrugging, I hop onto the step and peer over the wall of sandbags. What I saw made me do a double take. 'You are joking.'

Striding nonchalantly across No Man's Land was a man-sized, anthropomorphic, pink…rabbit. A rabbit. A rabbit wearing a stained white t-shirt with "_WHAT'S UP, DOC?"_ written in black lettering. A rabbit with a blood-covered and dripping cleaver in one hand…and a decapitated head of a Death Eater in the other.

'That's Bertie.' Malfoy informed me dryly, noticing that my mouth was open in disbelief.

'Oh, now you're just taking the piss.'

* * *

_Neither can live while the other survives, heroes cry and true love lies._

* * *

_The Ministry of Magic_

Albus Dumbledore arrived in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic to find pure bedlam and chaos. Duels had erupted all over between attacking Death Eaters and Aurors, along with the more courageous Ministry workers. The recently repaired Fountain of Magical Brethren had been torn apart once more and parts of the ceiling had caved in.

Instantly, Dumbledore was targeted by a happy-go-lucky Death Eater, who attempted to use the Cruciatus Curse on him. It didn't end well for him. Dumbledore left the unconscious Death Eater where he dropped and began to battle his way across the atrium, incapacitating unwary Death Eaters in search for his old pupil.

Sure enough, Lord Voldemort was here, and duelling three Aurors – one of which was Kingsley – at once. When he saw that Albus had joined the fray though, he simply blasted them away with a wave of his and turned to face his former teacher.

'Hello, Tom.' Dumbledore greeted genially, as if talking to an old friend. 'Still haven't seen the error of your ways yet?'

Voldemort's eyes narrowed and he glared. 'My name is –'

'I know what your name is.' Dumbledore cut him off. 'And it is not the self-proclaimed moniker you use to spread fear.'

'Your arrogance knows no bounds. _Avada Kedavra!_' The battle was on.

Albus simply flicked the Elder Wand and summoned a small chunk of the ceiling to intercept the deadly curse.

'_Spiculus!_' A flurry of arrows erupted from Dumbledore's wand and hurled themselves at Voldemort. He disintegrated them before casting a Decapitation Curse – _'Decapio!'_ – Which was easily blocked by Albus. The two continued on, trading a flurry of advanced spellwork that put all the other duellists to shame.

Dumbledore transfigured the centaur from the Fountain into a bull and it charged at Voldemort, who sent it flying across the atrium, where it landed in an unmoving heap.

'_Invitus Fiendfyra!_' Voldemort cried, conjuring up the storm that was fiendfyre. It took the form of a massive snake, and reared to attack Albus.

'_Aqua Proleiator!' _Dumbledore boomed. A torrent of water spewed from the wand before resolving into the form of a Pheonix. The two powers charged at each other and clashed magnificently, writhing and smashing across the floor, killing any unlucky enough to get caught in the way.

And that was when Voldemort got him. He had been so focused on maintaining the water golem that he had failed to notice Voldemort yell '_Bombarda!'_

The spell hit Albus in the chest full on. Instantly he felt several ribs break and he was blasted backwards ten feet into the air, before landing in a broken heap. His wand tumbled out of sight.

Albus couldn't move. A small part of him realised that he had just lost mastery of the Elder Wand to Voldemort, but he was in too much pain to absorb the fact. As the world began to black out, Voldemort stood above him. 'You have lost, Albus.' He sneered. As he raised the bone-white wand, Dumbledore closed his eyes and waited for the next great adventure to begin.

It never did. Instead, he heard the voice of Voldemort cry out 'Jackson Tibus!' and when he opened his eyes again to find said wizard duelling Voldemort.

Tibus was winning. He seemed to push back Voldemort at every turn, and it was obvious to Albus that Voldemort was being defeated. In minutes, Voldemort had signalled to his remaining Death Eaters to retreat, and in the flash of a dozen necklace based portkeys, they were gone. The attack had been repelled.

As mediwizards tended to his wounds, he discovered that the Elder Wand had gone missing. He didn't like to think who might've taken it, or even who recognised its true nature.

A battered Minister Scrimgeour was congratulating Jackson on his successful duel with Voldemort, praising him for his ability and courage despite being American. Something about the whole thing seemed off to Albus, but he couldn't tell what. The fact that Tibus had fought against Tom suggested that he hadn't in fact joined with Tom, but Albus' instincts said otherwise.

There was more in play than he understood. That much was certain.

* * *

I have to say, it is a very strange feeling to be attending your own funeral. Even if the funeral is a manifestation in your mind and makes no sense whatsoever. Malfoy had taken us to a graveyard, and told me that there was a message to found in this. So far I was just laughing my ass off.

For starters, both Voldemort and Snape were here, mourning me. Voldemort was crying, and dabbing his red eyes with a lace handkerchief. 'He was the best adversary I ever had.' He wailed. 'He put the challenge back into being evil.'

Snape wasn't much better, wailing about how I had my mother's eyes, and how he didn't know what to do without me to bully. I'd expect him to be dancing on my grave with a party hat more than anything, but meh. My mind is a strange place.

The rest of the guests – with the exception of Bertie the Rabbit – made a bit more sense. The Weasleys, Hermione, Neville and Luna, plus various teachers and Order members.

The coffin – mahogany – was simple in design, as was the unassuming white marble tombstone, with golden script for my epitaph.

'What exactly am I supposed to find here?' I ask Malfoy – now back in the black suit. Seriously, I didn't have a clue. Voldemort was crying, for starters. I think I'd rather have the battlefield, at least there things made a degree of sense. This place just didn't.

Malfoy rolled his eyes in exasperation. 'Go look at the graves.'

I harrumphed at the lack of a definitive answer, but nevertheless wandered out into the mass of graves. The first grave – the one I had been "buried" in read:

_**Here Lies Harry Potter**_

_**1980 – 1995**_

_**He Failed**_

'Cheery.' I mutter. Why would a grave say that? Maybe it was just a symbolic, metaphorical thing. Maybe I was supposed to accept that I was doomed to die at Voldemort's hands? No. That didn't sound right. I kept looking.

_**Here Lies Harry Potter**_

_**1980 – 2072**_

_**He Won**_

Okay, I liked this one a bit more. 92 years would do me fine. Why did I have more than one grave? That seemed important, the multiple graves. Were they all for me? Was this graveyard of the Boy-Who-Lived in the greater multiverse? It seemed so.

_**Here Lies Harry Potter**_

_**1980 – 1999**_

_**Slipped On A Banana Peel**_

I snorted at that one. There was quite a few of the inane, random ones. Fell asleep in the bath, tried to apparate to the Moon, had a heart attack while having sex with twins…the list went on and on. Basically, any possible way for me to die was listed here on a tombstone. This was my graveyard of impossibility and nonsense.

I'm on my way back to Malfoy to tell him that while this was amusing, I didn't have a clue what my message was. Hermione is good at riddles, not me. Suddenly, I noticed a grave unlike the others – this one was much simpler and lacked a true gravestone. Instead, there was a rotted wooden cross with an epitaph etched in with what could have been a knife.

_**Here Lies Harry Potter**_

_**Forever**_

'Forever…' I murmur, running a thumb across the grave marker. Then it hit me like an oncoming freight train.

These weren't graves, not really. They were _possibilities_. The infinite number of ways for Harry Potter to live and die. The prophecy wasn't fixed, and it didn't control my life. Time, fate, whatever, was in flux – it could be changed, for better or worse. It's not a fixed course from Point A to Point B, it's an ocean of possibility and constantly shifting and bending. The prophecy was in flux too – a prophecy can be ignored, or it can be followed. Voldemort sent events into motion when he attacked that night, but how it'll all end is down to both of us.

Smiling, and pleased with myself, I turned away from the grave and went to find Malfoy. I'm one step closer to reality.

* * *

_There is no fate but what we make._

* * *

Jackson Tibus was immensely pleased with himself. The false attack on the Ministry had been a success. It had genuinely looked as though Tibus had come in and saved the day.

His infiltration of the Ministry would be even easier than expected. There was already talking of ousting Dumbledore in favour of himself – because he was stronger, more powerful, more capable of fighting Voldemort than Dumbledore was.

However, his other prize was even better, unknown to Voldemort. The Dark Lord had no idea of the power Dumbledore's wand had, but he did. Tibus had waited until Voldemort had bested Dumbledore – therefore taking ownership of the Elder Wand – before stepping in and defeating him. The duel had been real enough, and since he had been victorious, the mastery of the wand had passed to him. Tibus was now master of the only Deathly Hallow that mattered, as well as the most powerful – the Elder Wand.

When the time came – and it would come – Voldemort would be powerless to stop Jackson from his plans.

* * *

'Hi, and welcome to _Harry Potter's Love Life_ – the only show where there is only one question, and one answer: Who does Harry Potter love?' Draco Malfoy exuberantly cheered.

After the graveyard, we had moved to a television studio. Spotlights panned over the shiny floor and audience stands, and a single pedestal stood in the middle of the room with a simple keyboard and segment display. I can actually guess were this is going, so I suppose it'll be less of a mindfuck.

After some _very_ bad electric introductory music, Malfoy started up again. 'Now let's meet our favourite contestant: _Harryyyy Pottterrrr!_'

Instantly, the spotlights panned over to where I was standing, although I gave no reaction other than to cock an eyebrow at Malfoy. Regardless he continued: 'He enjoys playing Qudditch, and battling Dark Lords, Dementors, or any other dark creature with a "D".'

I folded my arms, amused. I really have lost my mind, haven't I?

'He also enjoys long walks on the beach, writing poetry, and various other camp activities.' Malfoy finished, smirking. Wait, what? The smile slid off my face.

The crowd – Marshall the plant and Bertie the weird Rabbit, since there was no one else – whooped, cheered and whistled. Although, given that Bertie was as impassive as ever it was really just Marshall. He had even made a banner…

_WE 3 YOU HARRY_

I shake my head in exasperation. Let's just get this over and done with. I made my way up to the pedestal and glanced at Malfoy questioningly.

'The rules are simple. You realise who you love. Bear in mind there is only one correct answer and we already know what it is.' He explained. I rolled my eyes at that. He has all the answers for everything! Why couldn't they just tell me, make life easier?

'Your time starts…now!'

I gape at Malfoy, not a clue what to do. 'You can't just "decide" who you love, jackass." I snap at Malfoy.

'We know who you love. You just need to realise.' He shrugged.

I sighed and looked around for inspiration. Nothing.

Then I began to think. I thought about a pair of chocolate brown eyes and vibrant red hair. I thought about Ginevra Molly Weasley. She was beautiful, but more than that she had a strong will, and an inner strength few had – after the events of the Chamber, she refused to let the memories get her down. She kept on living. Kept on learning. Kept on loving. I want an equal, and she was that. She was nice, and kind and brave. And sometimes I get the impression she knows me better than Ron or Hermione do.

I know something's wrong with her. And I'm going to help her.

I glanced down at the keyboard in front of me, a small smile forming on my face. Slowly I type in _Ginny_ before pressing ENTER.

For a moment, nothing happens. Then the entire studio lights up in a brilliant display of light and noise, and confetti falls from the ceiling. Across the studio, LED displays light up and display _YOU'RE RIGHT!_ In massive, multi-coloured letters. Malfoy comes up and smacks me on the shoulder.

'Congratulations – you picked correctly!' Malfoy was amused. 'And your prize?'

He snapped his fingers, and the doors in front of the set swing open, revealing a warm, brilliant white light shining outwards. 'Reality.'

I glanced at Malfoy, confused. 'I just go?'

'You just go.' He confirmed. I glanced back at Marshall and Bertie, my other two…companions on this sojourn and give them a wave. Bertie was crying now.

'Right.' I said. Feeling a newfound confidance. 'Off I go.'

I marched up towards the light, a foot away from the doors, and glance back at Malfoy again. I'll try to be nicer to him in the rea-

'Just get the fuck out of here, Potter!'

Okay, maybe not. Shrugging, I turn back to the light and walk into it.

Back to the real world. Back to Ginny.

* * *

_**A/N: **__I admit it. I've no idea where I've gone with this chapter. I probably should've dealt with the actual emotional issues instead of mindfucks and insane random crap. Oh well. At least I've set the relationship part in stone._


	5. Back With A Bang

_**Disclaimer: **__I wear a Fez now. Fezzes are cool._

_**A/N:**__ Just thought I'd rattle off a few stats: over 3800 hits, 17 favs, and 29 alerts and one addition to a community. You guys rock. Obviously I'm doing something right. At least people have only found fault with parts of my story, and not my actual writing style, so yeah. Good times._

* * *

_**Harry Potter and the Broken Miracle**_

_Chapter Six – Back With A Bang_

"_All the world is mad, except thee and me, and even thee's a little mad at times_._" ~ Unknown_

As I awoke from what was probably the strangest dream I've ever had – probably some sort of outside influence – I realised that I could hear voices. Specifically Professor Dumbledore's and Madam Pomfrey's.

'Poppy, I assure you I am alright. The painkiller potions work perfectly.'

'That doesn't mean your ribs have healed! If I find you working like that again I'll put you in a bed next to Harry.' Pomfrey retorted. Ah, it was nice to hear her threatening someone else for a change. All too often I'm the target of her ire. Wait…what's happened to Dumbledore's ribs? I fumble around for my glasses, and find the on the bedside table. I pull them on to find that I'm in – you guessed it – the Hospital Wing. The other two were in Pomfrey's office.

Sighing, I leaned back into the admittedly comfy bed and think. Mentally, I made a list of everything I needed to do. First, I had to find out how long I had been out and what had happened since. Then I had to get Ginny sorted, and fix whatever was wrong with her.

So much to do, so little time.

The doors of Pomfrey's office opened and the two exited. Instantly they saw I was awake. 'Professor, Madam.' I greeted in amusement.

'Glad to have you back with us.' Pomfrey said. There was an unspoken "again" in there somewhere.

'You really should just give me my own bed.' I told her cheerfully. 'Professor, what happened to your ribs?' I asked, turning my attention to the Headmaster. He shook his head and smiled. 'The years are catching up to me, I can no longer duel like I used to.'

I remember the duel in the Ministry the night Sirius died. I doubted he had declined that badly in such a time. 'What happened?' I pressed. I'm on a timetable here. Madam Pomfrey had begun examining me using magic.

'The Ministry was attacked, but we successfully repelled it.' Dumbledore answered.

'Right.' So I must have been out for a while. 'How long was I unconscious, sir?'

'About five days, in total.' Pomfrey answered. 'Severus brewed a special potion called the _Elixir of the Heart_ to bring you out.' Shit. Five days? I had missed the Dursley's funeral. Oh well, there was nothing I could do about that. And this elixir would have explained why I had such a strange dream, anyways. 'Tell Snape thanks.'

'Professor Snape, Harry.' Dumbledore reprimanded. We've been through this a dozen times, Professor…

'Right. Whatever.' Madam Pomfrey stepped back and informed us: 'Well, Harry, you seem to be perfectly healthy, but –'

I cut her off. 'You're not keeping me here. I'm busy.' Then as an afterthought: 'Is there a change of clothes for me?'

'In the bedside cabinet.' Pomfrey answered instantly. Not even giving it a second thought, I jump out of bed despite my body's protests and began to search for said clothes. 'But I don't see why you need to go anywhere. You're not – Potter!'

I had pulled the turquoise divider across, and I didn't need to see them to know that they had just shared a confused look. I found the set of clothes and began to get changed. It was a set of the clothes I had bought with Hermione; blue jeans and suit jacket, a burgundy t-shirt and a set of converse trainers.

'Right!' I called. 'I've got three questions; One: Did you check Ginevra for curses after we escaped Voldemort? Two: Where is Ginevra? And three: Where is Neville?' I finished getting dressed and pulled the divider back again, looking at the two expectantly.

Dumbledore spoke first: 'Yes, and we found no magical residue from any recently cast enchantments.' Okay. That meant that whatever was effecting her was either older than a few weeks, or it had gone unnoticed. Both were equally worrying. 'And two and three?'

'Miss Weasley is with her brother on the Quidditch Pitch, and Mister Longbottom is at the Greenhouses.' The Headmaster said. Perfect. Not bothering to offer an explanation I simply headed for the doors to the rest of the school.

'Well, thanks, but I've got stuff to take care off.' I said as I exited. Then, suddenly remembering something I poked my head back around the door. 'Oh, and I know about Voldemort's Horcruxes and I think you do too.' I addressed a shocked Dumbledore. 'Once I've got my shit together, we're gonna need to talk about that.'

I disappeared again, leaving a baffled Headmaster and matron in my wake.

* * *

_Calm down. I know what I'm doing._

* * *

Just as Dumbledore had said, I found Neville in Greenhouse Three, re-potting the dangerous Venemous Tentacula plants. I slipped inside the greenhouse easily and stuck up to where Neville was working. He was so focused on his work that he didn't notice me leaning in and whispering: 'What'cha doing, Neville?'

Instantly, Neville jumped a foot in the air and dropped the garden shears he had been holding. I laughed as he clutched at his heart. ' Dammit, Harry, don't do that!' Neville panted. Then he frowned: 'When'd you wake up?'

'About fifteen minutes ago.' I told him humourlessly. Neville cocked an eyebrow. 'And you didn't go to Ron or Hermione first?' I shifted uneasily at that, but there were more pressing matters.

'I'm sure they'll understand, I needed to talk to you about Ginevra.' I stated. Neville blinked in surprise. 'Why me?' He asked.

'Cause you're not affected by whatever it is preventing everyone else from noticing.' I think there was a reason for that. The Longbottom genealogy had a noted propensity for resistance to mind magic. Not immunity, or anything like that, but they would be less affected than others by simple charms of that kind.

Neville nodded. 'It's like no one else can tell something's wrong with her.' He said. 'What was she like without me around?' I asked.

'Well…'He began thoughtfully. 'She's more or less normal. But then you get mentioned and she goes all moody and stuff.' Okay, so it's something to do with me then. That was a start.

'Okay.' I began, voicing my thought process. 'What magic can alter behaviour? Imperius Curse? No, too obvious. Would've been noticed. Something simpler…' I began to pace around the greenhouse, rubbing my hands as I rattled off brilliant nonsense. 'A compulsion charm? No…maybe. Could be.'

'Harry, slow down.' Neville said. I ignored him. The strings of logic were coming together.

'It'd have to be simple, hypnotic almost. A compulsion charm could do that but it'd have worn off by now.' I frown. 'Unless it was modified, but why would you compulse someone to hate me? It doesn't make sense. They don't know I love her.'

'You love her?' Neville teased.

'Shut up. You never heard that.' I run a hand through my hair, making it messier than before. 'Unless it's a side effect. But why would that happen? Some sort of interference?'

'Maybe because you're connected to You-Know-Who?' Neville suggested helpfully.

I shake my head negatively. 'Not Voldemort – the only chance he would've had was when he captured her. It's older than that.' I tell him. I frown in thought. 'If we can figure out why it's me then maybe we can date this thing, find out when it got put on her.'

Neville nodded, and I regarded him thoughtfully. 'What connects her personally to me?' I looked at Neville expectantly. 'Oi, Nev! I'm talking to you!'

'She had that massive crush on you?' Neville shrugged.

'Nah, she got over that after third year.' I told him.

Neville however, thought he was going along the right lines. 'You just saved her again, right? What if that caused some of the old feelings to come back, and now they're corrupting the spell or whatever?'

I stared at Neville in newfound respect. 'Y'know, you might be right.' Frankly, I hoped he was. 'So that means probably some point in the last three or so years. Somewhere with a lot of people, and…'

It was ridiculously obvious after that. 'Quidditch World Cup.' I breathed. It made sense – lots of people, most of them completely unknown to us. It would've been the easiest thing to apply the spell at a short distance in a crowd. 'Someone's playing a long game here.' I muttered. The fact it might not have been Voldemort was frankly worrying. Yet another thing to take up with Dumbledore.

'So now we've got a date, and a rough idea of what it is.' Neville summed up, clasping his hands together in a business-like manner. 'What happens now? Do we go to the Headmaster?'

I considered it. Professor Dumbledore could no doubt help, but there was the fact we had no idea what the charm was actually for. 'Let's go see Ginevra first…I've got an idea.' Well, it was sort of an idea. More like the half-baked plan you come up when you decide to paint the living room – more likely than not it'll go to hell quicker than you can say "Quidditch".

Neville nodded, and began putting way his gardening tools. I waited for him patiently by the door, and when he finished we both left the greenhouse and made our way across the grounds towards the Quidditch Pitch.

'Hey, Harry, how come everyone doesn't notice the weird behaviour?' Neville asked curiously. I tilt my head and shrug. 'Probably something simple like a modified Notice-Me-Not Charm working alongside the other spell.'

A Notice-Me-Not Charm, unlike a Disillusionment Charm, did not actually disguise you in the traditional sense. Instead, what it did was "shift" an observer's perception of you. It didn't make you invisible, but it would render you largely unnoticeable to others unless you drew attention to yourself. Like a Compulsion charm, it was simple enough to become virtually undetectable once the magical residue of casting it had faded. It had probably been modified to hide any of Ginny's behaviour changes as a back-up.

Whoever had done it knew what they were doing, at any rate. 'It's also the reason her parent's let her go to a boyfriend of only a few weeks with no questions raised.' I added as an afterthought.

When the Pitch was only a little over fifty feet away, Neville spoke up again: 'So what's this plan of yours?'

My cheeks redden, and I quietly mumble: 'Kiss her.'

'And that'll work because…?' He snorted cynically. I sigh, before explaining my hypothesis. 'if we're right, then her feelings for me are corrupting the charm. So…'

'If you kiss her, the surge of emotion might break it entirely.' Neville finished, amused.

'Correctamundo.' 'Course, if I'm wrong about this, then Ginny will probably kill me. Then her brothers will kill me again, and Dean will probably make it a hat trick.

Is it wrong I'm a little excited? Part of me is nervous – I'm over a hundred and fifteen, but it's kind of hard to feel your age when a teenager stares back at you in a mirror. Bah, fuck it. This'll work brilliantly, or not at all.

Suddenly, I realised something. I had left my wand in the Hospital Wing. I pat my pockets down hopefully – no luck. Suddenly I was feeling a lot less confident about this plan of mines.

We arrived at the Quidditch Pitch. I couldn't see Ron or Ginny flying around, so I guessed that they were getting changed. Right on cue, Ginny appears at the player's entrance.

Somehow, despite being windswept and covered in mud, she still somehow manages to look attractive. For the briefest of moments, I forget that she's been cursed, and probably wants me dead, and just admire her looks.

The moment is broken when she smiles at Neville and greets him warmly, and then turns her attention to me. 'Potter.' She hissed. Ah, to hell with it. I take the cross the scant distance between us, and before she can say anything, I had taken her face gently into my hands and pressed my lips to hers in a simple, chaste kiss.

I pull away slowly, and look at her questioningly, the barest hint of a smile on my lips. She tasted like cherry.

There was a yell, a red cheek and a resounding _smack _that echoed across the grounds that sent birds to the skies in terror and then the left side of my face was in stinging pain.

'You slapped me!' I cried disbelievingly, while rubbing my raw cheek.

'You kissed me.' Ginny retorted. Her voice was low, dangerous. I got the feeling I was going to be on the receiving end of one of her infamous Bat-Bogey Hexes.

'You _slapped_ me!' Neville was on the floor laughing now. He was getting pranked later. Then, I probably did the most stupid thing ever in the history of stupid things. I said: 'You look purty when you're angry.'

I instantly wanted to amend that to "_fucking scary_". Her nostrils flared and she dived into her pockets for her wand, which she pulled out and pointed at me with deadly intent.

'_Mucosa Chiroterum!_' She screeched. The yellow jet misses me by an inch and I courageously decide that a swift retreat is in order.

Abandon ship and run like a bitch, every man for himself!

* * *

_Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Amen to that._

* * *

Ron's day had just taken a very strange turn indeed. He had exited the Gryffindor changing room to find not his sister Ginny as expected, but a hysterical Neville rolling on the ground, and what appeared to be Harry in the distance, sprinting towards the castle with his sister in pursuit, who was hurling all manner of spells at him.

'Hey, Neville…' He asked the teen, who was on the verge of crying with laughter. 'Why is Ginny trying to kill Harry?'

'Too…funny…' Neville moaned. Ron shrugged. He was sure they'd sort it out.

* * *

Ginny is a very scary lady. She had somehow managed to chase me across the grounds and into the castle without losing pace, casting spells at me all the while. I charged across the Entrance Hall – most of the teachers present got the fright of their lives – and up the stairs leading to the Grand Staircase. I was headed to the Hospital Wing – if I was lucky enough, I could get my wand and hopefully keep the red-headed demon at bay. Hopefully.

Spurred on by adrenaline and outright fear, I blitzed across three floors and could have wept with relief when I saw the open doors to the infirmary. A spell whizzed over my head and impacted on the door frame but I ignore it and keep running. As I enter the infirmary, I jump over a bed, before diving across the one I had woken up in, and snatch my wand off the bedside table as I tumbled down onto the hard floor.

'_DEFENSEOBEX!'_

It seemed my barrier spell had worked, since I wasn't dead yet. Ignoring the agony and stitches in my chest, I managed to pull myself up using the bed for support and managed to peer over the top. Yes, the spell had divided the Hospital Wing in two with an impenetrable invisible barrier. Ginny was on the other side, thankfully. If looks could kill I'd be dead. She held her wand loosely in one hand, and the other was propped on her hip.

I was soaked with sweat and panting like I'd just run a marathon – I could have, for all intents and purposes. With a herculean effort, I managed to get to my feet and look Ginny straight in eyes. She stared back defiantly.

'This isn't you, Ginny.' I murmur softly. 'You know it isn't.'

'How can you tell me how I should be acting like?' She snapped. 'You wrote to me all summer after the Chamber, but when school came back you practically forgot I existed! Then you ignored me the next year, and this one!'

'That's not true.' I tried to deny guiltily and failed miserably. I didn't know if this was the charm or something Ginny herself thought. I prayed it was the latter.

Ginny sneered. 'Oh? I spent _years_ trying to get you to notice me! And you never did!'

Those words hurt more than a Cruciatus Curse. 'I'm sorry.' I could've argued back if I wanted to. I could've asked her if back then she wanted me for who I am, or the legends that surrounded me. After all, I was a fairytale to kids, supposedly. I didn't argue back though. Even if thoughts of teenage romance hadn't come into the equation, I had still been a sorry excuse of a friend to her over the years. She hadn't deserved that.

'I'm so sorry, Ginny.' I began, swallowing a lump in my throat. 'I've been a terrible friend, I know. But I'm trying to make amends now, and help you. You're not well.' I told her sincerely.

She scoffed at that and snarled. 'I'll be a lot better once I've decked you.'

Her response elicited a sigh from me. What was I supposed to do now? My little plan had fucked up and backfired like a college student's car. I needed to get Ginny to let someone look at her and undo the charm. Me, Dumbledore, hell, even Snape could probably do it. A thought suddenly popped into my head. 'Can you hear me?' I asked.

Now Ginny was confused. 'Of course I can, you idiot.'

'Oh, but I'm not talking to you Ginevra.' I told her, affecting a tone of false confidence and cheerfulness. 'You're under a spell, and I reckon the person who cast it can hear us right now. Am I right?'

Ginny still looked nonplussed. In all honesty, I didn't have a clue whether or not the caster could hear me. I actually doubted it to be brutally honest – a real-time connection like that would've been impossible for a simple (if modified) Compulsion spell; Ginny would've been lit up like a Christmas tree. Still, I was desperate and I was willing to try anything to accelerate the situation.

'Helllooooo, are you in there?' I called. Ginny was now looking at me like a madman. I think by most standards I am, but hey, it works. I'm awesome like this. Super-Har- no, just, no.

'You're barking…' Ginny muttered, but then it seemed I had done something right. She frowned before pressing a hand to her temple, as if to alleviate a headache. Was it because I was addressing the castor, or because I had kissed her?

'Problems, Ginerva?' I prompted. Actually, it could've been the Notice-Me-Not Charm failing, I noted. I had more or less overridden it. Either way worked. If the Notice-Me-Not Charm failed, then the others would notice her erratic behaviour and find the compulsion spell. Either way worked for me.

'Shut up, Potter…why are you smiling?' She demanded. I simply winked at her. 'I'm helping you, Miss Weasley, in a way you probably don't understand right now.' I finished in a neutral tone.

Ginny swayed again, and I realised what was about to happen. With a flick of my wand I dispelled the barrier that had separated us, and managed to catch her just as she collapsed. I cradled her softly, before sighing.

You have to start somewhere, right?

* * *

_The greatest love stories begin with a single smile._

* * *

Ron had been less than pleased to find out that his sister was unconscious. In fact he had been about to put me back into a coma, before the others had managed to placate him. Neville and I had rather sensibly decided to omit certain aspects like me kissing her and such, but we explained the rest of the situation without concern to the group that had congregated in the Hospital Wing around Ginny's bed – Ron himself, Hermione, Neville, and Professor Dumbledore. Luna was apparently away feeding the Thestrals.

'How come we never noticed?' Hermione asked. 'The Notice-Me-Not Charm stopped you from thinking about any erratic behaviour from her. You'd have put it together instantly, otherwise.' I told her. Hell, it had taken me ten minutes. Hermione would've done it in two.

'Do you think it was You-Know-Who?' Ron asked worriedly.

'Nah, the timing doesn't fit.' I told him. 'We're guessing around the World Cup. And call him Voldemort.' Ron winced at the name. 'Fine call him Tom Riddle if you're such a sissy.' I snort.

'A Death Eater, perhaps?' Dumbledore suggested. 'I shudder to think why another party would attempt to turn Miss Weasley into a sleeper agent.'

'A better question is who would wait more than two years to activate her.' I said. Either they were waiting for a _very _specific set of circumstances, or they were playing on hell of a long game. 'Obviously, it's not just to kill you or me, Professor.' I mused.

'Sabotage? Disrupt Hogwarts from within somehow?' Hermione offered. I shrugged. It was possible, and more than a little likely.

'It doesn't matter what it was for.' I said to no one in particular. 'Professor Dumbledore's gonna remove it and then we'll find out who did it.' There was an unspoken threat in my voice. Find them, and rip their heart out.

'Mum and Dad will be here soon.' Ron said. 'They're upset that they never noticed, but I told them that none of us had, and not to worry about it.'

Dumbledore smiled at him and told him that none of them to were blame, and that what was done was done. I was getting a bit impatient and jittery.

'Can we get this show on the road?' I asked Dumbledore. I hadn't been willing to try and remove it myself – I had no real experience and probably would've fried a few of Ginny's synapses. Dumbledore nodded, the usual joviality replaced by a look of calm seriousness. He drew his wand – I noticed it was different to the knobbed one I remembered. I made a mental note to ask about that later. He had probably lost it during the attack on the Ministry.

He gently traced his wand over Ginny's forehead in complex, intricate patterns, and lowly murmured spells in broken Latin. Thin wisps and strands of pale magic began to rise from Ginny's forehead, and he dispelled them with waves of his wand. It continued for a few minutes. Ron and Neville looked on in mild worry and Hermione with her typical academic interest. I eyed the scene impassively, but internally I was just as concerned as the rest of them.

Finally, the Headmaster disperses one final strand and sighs. 'The spell is gone.'

Ron, Neville and Hermione breathed out a collective sigh of relief, and I couldn't help but crack a small smile. 'How long till she's up?'

'Tomorrow at most.' Dumbledore answered. Then he turned to me and I knew what he was about to say next. 'Harry, could I discuss a few things with you?'

I glanced at Ginny, reluctant to leave her, before sighing and acquiescing: 'Sure.'

Just then, Ron gasped and smacked his forehead. 'I can't believe we forgot!'

'Forgot what?' I asked curiously. Hermione's eyes widened in realisation too.

'Happy birthday, Harry!' Ron laughed. I frowned before understanding. If my maths was right, it was now August 2nd. I had been sixteen – a hundred and sixteen – for two days.

'Happy birthday.' Neville and Hermione chorused. I can't help but chuckle and Dumbeldore had a small smile hidden beneath his beard. 'Your presents are in your dorm room.' Hermione added.

'You mean Ronald hasn't opened them yet?' I asked in mock surprise. Ron replied indignantly. 'Hey! I only do that for "get-well" gifts. I don't touch the birthdays!'

Dumbledore laughed, before speaking. 'If I can borrow you for a few minutes, Harry, then I'll leave you to your overdue celebrations.'

I nodded, before standing. 'See you.' I said to my friends, before following Dumbledore out.

We walked along the hallways in silence for a few moments, before I decide to break it: 'What happened to your wand, Professor?'

Dumbledore sighed. 'I lost it during a duel with Tom in the Ministry. Shame. It was a most useful wand.'

I nodded thoughtfully. I could tell there was more to it than that, but I let it slide.

'Wha do you know about Tom's Horcruxes, Harry?' Dumbledore asked quietly. I shrug before answering: 'Just looked into ways Voldemort could've survived without his body and connected the dots.'

I had researched ways Voldemort could've made himself immortal. There were ways he could've done it, but none of them would allow him to operate as a distinct entity. Think about the old head-in-a-jar idea from the old science fiction shows. That just wasn't his style. Horcruxes however, would be right up his alley.

'I know the diary was one.' I told him. 'And I used to be one before he killed me again. But I think you already knew that.' I told him. There was a slight tone of anger in my voice. I would've quite liked to know that I had a fucking piece of someone else's soul leeching from mine.

Still, ever since I had lost the fragment I felt lighter. Stronger, almost. I think the thing had been feeding off some of my magic.

'I'm sorry Harry.' Dumbledore winced. 'I did not want to bur –'

'Burdon me with the truth, blah blah blah.' I cut him off. 'Professor, I'm the one who has to fight him. I need to know these things. How am I supposed to beat him if the guy I'm supposed to follow doesn't tell me anything?'

'I'm sorry, my boy.' Dumbledore apologised. 'From now on, no more secrets.'

Somehow I doubted that, but it was good enough for now. 'What do you know about them then?'

Dumbledore frowned, and I sensed that he was a bit frustrated – not at me, but at his Horcrux hunt. 'I've located one, and may have a lead on another, but I do not know how many he has, or even what all the objects are.' A thought seemed to occur to him, and he continued. 'Though you may be able to help with that.'

'How?' I asked, interested.

'An old colleague of mine may have some information about them. I request that you help me convince him to return to Hogwarts and tell us it.'

'Deal.'

Dumbledore nodded. 'And now we come to a more worrying issue.'

'My connection to Voldemort.' I sighed.

'The soul fragment is gone.' Dumbledore stated. 'Yet the connection is still active. How?'

'I think he's soul scarred me.' I told him. Soul scarring was the effective thematic foil of a soul bond. Whereas a soul bond is forged from love and affection between a witch and a wizard, a soul scar would form when two wizards despised each other in a way few would understand. Both were an insanely rare occurrence – and both were rarely documented due to their inherently personal nature. A soul scar would form when a horrific act was commited on a victim, and Voldemort certainly hated me and spilled enough of my blood to drown the _Titanic_. Our various run-ins over the years were testament to that, and the way he used me in his resurrection probably hadn't helped.

So in a way, I actually had two connections to Voldemort. The one from the Horcrux, and the one from the soul scar running underneath all the while.

Dumbledore had a look of sympathy on his face. 'I'm so sorry, my boy.' I shrugged unconcerned. 'Doesn't bother me. The bastard can't get me through it anymore.'

We fell into contemplative silence once more. Then Dumbledore asked another question – albeit one I hadn't been expecting. 'What do you know of Jackson Tibus?'

'Never heard of him.' I answered honestly.

Dumbledore chuckled. 'Before he arrived here, few in Britain had. He's an extremely powerful wizard from America.'

'Like you?' I asked. Maybe every country had an all-powerful wizard or something?

'I suppose.' Dumbledore answered. 'He saved the Ministry after Voldemort bested me.'

'Oh.' Where was he going with this, exactly? 'And the problem is?'

Dumbledore answered: 'Many of the Order think he is allied with Tom.' I absorbed that little fact with a pinch of salt. 'How come?'

'Shortly after the war with Grindelwald, he campaigned for a war against the muggles; he believed that they could wipe us out or destroy the magical community.'

I snorted at that. Of course they could. They could put people on the moon and level entire cities. They outshined the magical world in almost any way imaginable. 'Only if you gave them a reason.'

'Indeed, and that is largely why he was unsuccessful.' Dumbledore said. So why were you telling me this?

'You think he's allied with Voldemort.' It wasn't a question. Dumbledore nodded in confirmation. 'And that means you also think that him saving the Ministry was a trick.' I continued.

'He has already convinced many that I'm unable to manage my status on the ICW and Wizengamont.' Dumbledore told me sadly. 'And he's due to replace me in both positions.'

Bullshit. 'You're honestly telling me that the Ministry can just replace people like that?' I cried, snapping my fingers at "that" for added emphasis.

'Yes.' Wow. The magical world is more fucked up than I thought. Just another thing I'll have to deal with. They're like sheep to herd around as you please.

Suddenly, a light bulb went on in my head. 'Hang on; you don't think he's the one that put the spell on Ginny do you?'

'I honestly don't know.' Dumbledore answered, looking all of his years. It suddenly occurred to me that I was now slightly older than him. He was what – hundred and fifteen? Fourteen? How long until I become addicted to lemon drops? Could I have jelly babies instead? _Would you like a jelly baby?_

'It's certainly a possibility though.' He finished, completely unaware of my thought train. 'And now I would like to discuss a few less serious, but by all means important.'

'Go ahead.'

Dumbledore nodded musingly, and pulled a small scroll of parchment from his chest. 'Sirius was declared innocent _post-mortem_, and his will was recently passed.'

I ignore the slight tightening in my chest. 'Go on.'

'He left you all his worldly possessions.' Dumbledore informed me. 'A fair amount of gold, Grimmauld place and all its contents and Buckbeak.' He looked at me with a slight look of concern. 'He also left you…' _Pop!_

'Kreacher!'

The damnable House-Elf had appeared out of nowhere. My first thought was to strangle the little bugger. He was one of the reasons Sirius had died. A more compassionate part of me won over though, and I realised that Kreacher was simply bitter; Bitter because of the way Sirius had treated him, and bitter because the family he had once served with pride had more or less died out completely.

I sighed. 'I can't just free him, can I?' I asked Dumbledore. He simply shook his head. The elf knew too much about Order business. 'You could have him work in the kitchens.' Dumbledore suggested helpfully. Bah, fine. I didn't particularly care.

'Kreacher, am I now your master?' I asked him. The elf simply turned his back. 'Answer me.' I ordered. Eventually, the Elf slowly ground out an unwilling 'Yes.'

'Okay. I want you to go work in the Hogwarts kitchens for now.' The Elf huffed, before disappearing with a _pop_ as quickly as it had arrived. Dobby should keep an eye on him.

'There is also the matter of Buckbeak and the house. The fact that Kreacher recognises you as his master means that the will has been successfully passed. We were wondering if you could continue to let us use it as Headquarters?' Dumbledore inquired.

'Yeah, sure, whatever.' I didn't really care what became of the house. It could be razed to the ground for what it's worth. Too many memories of a dead man. Guess the whole recreating him in the Room thing hadn't helped all that much.

Dumbledore nodded in satisfaction. 'There is also the issue of Buckbeak the Hippogriff.' He stated. 'Currently, he is in the care of Hagrid, but if you'd prefer to make other arrangements…'

'No no, that's fine.' I had yet to see Hagrid, come to think of it. The half-giant had been spending a lot of time with his brother, Grawp.

'Excellent. Hagrid will be most pleased.'

'That it?' I asked Dumbledore. It was getting late, and I was beginning to get tired – running from a pissed Weasley takes it out of you.

'Actually, there was one more thing.' Dumbledore said. I sighed. I wanted my comfy four-poster bed back up in the dormitories. My presents could wait till tomorrow. 'Yes?'

'I want you to continue your defence club.' Dumbledore answered without preamble. I was surprised by that. 'Why? Don't tell me we're getting another crappy DADA teacher.'

'I already have a more than competent teacher lined up for the year.' Dumbledore said. 'However, I feel that a little extra tutelage is necessary, given the current situation.'

'Sure thing.' I had already planned to restart it anyways, and make it bigger and better. Dumbledore nodded, as if weighing something up. 'I will be making frequent trips from the castle this year.' Dumbledore said. 'I would like the DA to be something of a safety net. Not an army to fight off attackers – an Auror detachment has been arranged – but to watch for threats from within.'

'Sure.' I had actually been considering something along those lines, but with Dumbledore's approval it seemed set in stone. 'One final thing Harry.' _Damn it!_

'Yessssss?' I sighed wearily. Dumbledore chuckled. 'I am arranging something with the teachers that could possibly make your life easier in the coming school year. We have not agreed on the specifics yet, but rest assured, it would give you more time to devote to training and the DA.'

'Oh?' He had me interested now. 'But I shall tell you more of that tomorrow.' Why tell me now then?

'Goodnight my boy.' Dumbledore bade me genially, completely aware he had just annoyed me no end. I rolled my eyes in exasperation.

'Night, Professor.'

* * *

_The pieces are falling into place, and the chess masters are setting up their stratagems._

* * *

As it turned out, Ron hadn't actually opened any of my birthday presents. With the understandable exception of Ginny, all the usual present-givers had sent me something. I sat in the Gryffindor Common Room with the conscious members of the "Ministry Six" –as we had been drolly dubbed -

Ron had bought me an actual Snitch, which now darted around the room frantically. Hermione had bought me an updated _Broomstick Servicing Kit_, which I had stashed upstairs with my new Firebolt. Neville had bought me a strange little plant called a dreamweed, which supposedly had dream-catcher like properties. The twins had sent me a box of their joke products, with a certificate stating that I was a majority shareholder and had the right to take any of their products for free, within reason. Mr and Mrs Weasley had dropped off a customary Weasley jumper and a selection of toffees when they had arrived to check on Ginny. I now wore the jumper, but Ron had nicked the sweets. Surprisingly, even Bill and Charlie had sent me something: Charlie had sent me an animated model of a Hungarian Horntail dragon, which even spat fire and could fly to a degree, and Bill had sent me a book on Curse-breaking and warding called _Entering the Crypt,_ byLara Ventura.

The most surprising and pleasing gifts though, were from Luna and Remus – who had dropped it off while I was unconscious and being accosted by mental pink rabbits and talking plants (not that I had told anyone that. Since coming out of the coma, people had assumed my mental state was now stable, and I wasn't willing to change that).

Luna had bought me a simple, yet elegant pocket-watch. It didn't tell time though, and in acted very similarly to the clock the Weasley's had at the Burrow – there were four positions that would be pointed to, depending on where the person in question was: _Home, School, Work, _and _Mortal Peril_. There were five fingers, each engraved with a name: Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny and Luna's. All of them were pointing at _School_. It was incredibly thoughtful, and I thanked Luna profusely for it.

Remus on the other hand, had given me what appeared to be a blank book, and I was a tad disconcerted by its similarity to the Horcrux-Diary I had destroyed in second-year. It was completely devoid of any writing save a cryptic _"What's Our Oath?"_. After that, it hadn't taken me long to tap it with my wand and intone "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." Almost instantly, spider-like black ink began to criss-cross over the pages, turning into writing and diagrams of spells, prank ideas and accounts of amusing stories, along with notes on becoming an animagus. The front page read:

_**Messers Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs**_

_**Are Proud To Present**_

_**THE MARAUDER'S HANDBOOK**_

I was still rifling through the book when the fireplace flared green and Madam Pomfrey's head appeared in amidst the flames, before addressing the five of us.

'Miss Weasley has woken up.'

* * *

_**A/N:**_ _Well, we're finally starting to get into the heart of the story now. As always, reviews pointing out mistakes, issues, as well as to give ideas or criticism are welcome. Also, I've been considering simply combining the first two chapters to give a more consistent word count. Your thoughts?_

_Cheers._


	6. Choices

_**Disclaimer: **__And that's jenga._

_**A/N: **__As you may have noticed, I've changed the name of this story to Harry Potter and the Broken Miracle. The reason for this is that I've lost interest in the story arc I had initially planned: Harry and Co would lead a political reform and change the wizarding world. I got bored of that, and decided on a new arc which gives Tibus a larger role and pans out into an actual adventure. You'll see. The first half of this story will tie up most of the canonical things: the Horcruxes, the Hallows (to a degree) and things like the wedding and relationships. Then it goes into new and hopefully original territory._

* * *

_**Harry Potter and the Broken Miracle**_

_Chapter Seven – Choices_

_"Men must be decided on what they will NOT do, and then they are able to act with vigor in what they ought to do." ~ Menicus_

The five of us had relocated to the Hospital Wing in haste. Sure enough, when they arrived, a confused, but ultimately happy Ginny Weasley was awake to greet them. Ron had almost instantly settled into the role of over-protective and fussy older brother, much to her chagrin.

'I've owled Mum and Dad to let them know you're alright.'

'Give it a rest, Ron! I'm fine!' Ginny snapped at Ron. Ron however, would not be swayed. 'You just woke up from having a mind spell on you. No you're not.'

Ginny rolled her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, before deciding to try a new tactic: 'Okay, fine, look at it this way: stop fussing or you'll have bats clawing inside your nose.' She threatened. I winced, knowing that she was more than capable of backing up the promise. Ron seemed to be immune to her intimidation, but I was not, and I have unwelcome and recent experience with just what she could do when angry.

'Ron, I'd give it a rest.' I warned him, hoping that he'd listen to me at least. 'But-'

'Ron!' It was Hermione this time. 'Shush!' Finally, Ron seemed to get the hint and fell silent, brooding.

The six of us talked about everything and nothing, determined to avoid the reason for why Ginny was in the Hospital Wing. I had zoned out of the conversation and simply opted to subtly admire her. Her fair skin, the way her eyes lit up when she laughed. I completely failed to notice when Luna asked me whether or not I believed in Mindwalkers.

'Huh, what sorry?' I didn't have a clue. Neville had the biggest smirk on his face now, and Hermione was looking between me and Ginny with a look of dawning comprehension. Ron was completely oblivious, bless him. And Luna was well…Luna.

'Ron, have you seen my copy of _the Standard Book of Spells (Grade Four)_?' Hermione asked. Ron had been taken by surprise, and didn't have a clue. 'What? How would I have seen it?' He harrumphed. Suddenly I realised what Hermione was trying to do. 'You left it in the common room.' I said quickly, hoping to derail her plan. She was _not _leaving me alone with Ginny.

'I checked there this morning.' Bullshit. You probably haven't even lost it. 'You'll have to help me look for it, Ron.' Hermione said, and there was the barest hint of a smirk on her face. C'mon, Ron don't let me down. 'Umm…okay?' _Shit!_ I watched in disbelief as the two stood and made their goodbyes. I cursed them mentally as they left.

Neville was the next to betray me. 'I promised that I'd help Professor Sprout with this year's Mandrakes. Have fun.' And then bolted. They're all dead to me. That left just Ginny, Luna and myself.

And then Luna simply stood up and walked away without a word. Damn her and her endearing quirkiness! That just left me and Ginny. For what seemed like an eternity, neither of us said anything, and every time our eyes met, we both looked away blushing. Eventually though, Ginny was the one to break the ice. 'Did you know Ron kissed Hermione?'

I did not. 'Really, when was this?' I asked, my interest more than piqued. 'At the Burrow a few weeks ago. Hermione just told me they were talking and he just did it out of the blue.' I laughed at that. Ginny laughed too. Have I mentioned that her whole face lights up when she laughs? Radiant.

'They really do need to get together.' I said. Everyone in the school could see it. Hell, there was more than fifty students taking part in a school-wide betting pool. I believe Seamus had five Galleons for Valentine's next year, and saving her from an army of Dementors. 'We should play matchmaker.'

'Oh?' Ginny was interested now. 'Do we have a plan, Mister Potter?'

I tapped my nose and winked conspirationaly. 'Perhaps, Miss Weasley.' I did, actually. I just had to arrange a thing or two. It would be epic. 'Many people are going to lose a lot of money.' I had checked. As it stood, the grand total was 1,212 galleons to be split between correct parties. And none of them were even close to what I had planned.

Ginny smiled again, before frowning slightly. 'You sound different now.' I cocked an eyebrow. 'More eloquent. Posh, I suppose.'

I grin slightly. 'Well, you tend to change a few of your habits after a hundred years.' I saw Ginny's eyes widen. 'I knew you had done that thing with the Room, but I didn't realise it was that long.' She said. 'Bit of an age gap.' She joked.

'Yeah, it is.' I said quietly. 'Does it bother you?'

'No, no. Why would it?' Ginny insisted quickly. 'Does it bother _you_?'

'Not at all.' I said quickly. 'Why would it? We're not dating or anything.' I stuttered. Smooth, Potter. Real Casablanca you are. And it all went from bad to worse after that.

'Just kissing apparently.' Ginny quipped, eyeing me intently. I blushed a shade of scarlet to rival her hair. 'Why did you do that, anyways?' She asked, curious. I really didn't want to get into this.

'I kinda, sorta, thought…that maybe it would break the charm.' I mumbled, embarrassed. I've fought Dark Lords, Dementors, dragons and fifty foot snakes; yet I can hardly talk to Ginny. The infamous Gryffindor bravado had deserted me in my time of greatest need. 'And did it?' She prompted.

'Probably not, no.' More likely than not it had been the Notice-Me-Not charm failing; it had caused the compulsion charm to do the magical equivalent of a short-circuit. 'It seemed like a good idea at the time?' I tried innocently in an attempt to absolve myself.

'I'll bet.' Ginny said, amused. 'Do you always go for taken girls, or just the ones whose life you've saved?' She remarked, smirking. 'Depends on what mood I'm in.' I answer back, despite the fact I'm probably just digging myself a deeper grave.

Suddenly, Ginny sighed and took on a solemn appearance. 'What are we doing, Harry?'

I cocked an eyebrow in silent question. 'Look, I don't think about you that way anymore, okay? I'm sorry.'

'I-I wasn't.' I stammered. 'I don't…'

'I'm with Dean, now, anyways.' Ginny stated, her tone suggesting there was to be no question, but there was a sad look of almost-regret in her eyes as she said those words.

'I know. I don't like you like that – I mean, I do like you but as a friend, not –ah, hell.' I buried my face into my hands. I couldn't even lie anymore. Damn.

Ginny, beautiful, brilliant Ginny smiled and said: 'I know. It's okay.'

We drifted into an awkward silence after that. We both knew it wasn't okay, and we both knew I was a lying bastard. I decided to simply throw caution to the winds, and hope to salvage the situation. 'I'm sorry.' I told her. 'I'm sorry for not being the friend I should have been.' I had more or less ignored her the last two years. She really hadn't deserved that.

Ginny seemed surprised by the sudden turn of the conversation, but seemed to have been expecting it. 'Don't be. Am I a bit bitter? Yes.' Of course she was – what she had screamed at me proved it. And she had every right to be. 'But I understand why. You're too busy for just normal friends.'

I looked up at that, perplexed. 'What? You're so busy trying to stop bad guys and running illegal clubs with Ron and Hermione to do something as normal as socialising.' She explained. I had never heard it that way. I guess it was kind of true. Between whatever adventures and misadventures and not-quite-adventures had managed to find me, Quidditch, homework and everything else, I had limited free time. 'I don't hate you for it.' She said quietly.

'Thank you.' I told her quietly. It was by no means an absolution, but it was a start. 'Actually that reminds me.' I said, remembering a promise I made what seemed like an age ago. 'When you're out of here, I want to talk to all of you about something. It's important.'

Ginny raised an eyebrow inquisitively. 'Is it about Voldemort?' she asked sympathetically. I paused. 'Yes and no. You'll understand when I tell you.'

Just then, a sliver phoenix flew into the infirmary. It danced around the room elegantly before coming to a standstill at Ginny's bedside. The patronus spoke in Dumbledore's familiar voice. '_Harry, if you'd be so kind, I'd like you to accompany me to see the colleague I mentioned. Meet me in the Entrance Hall when this finds you.'_ Once it finished, the phoenix faded away, its task completed.

I sighed. 'Duty calls, I guess.'

* * *

_Don't say you don't love me._

* * *

After Ginny watched Harry leave, she mentally slapped herself and forced down the tidal wave of emotions that battered around inside her. She couldn't think about Harry that way. The girl who grew up on the stories and fairytales was gone now, replaced by someone else. She was with Dean.

_And?_ A voice in her head asked amused. _So what? You know he doesn't love you. He's just in it for the fling, the thrill of the carnal flesh._

No._ Yes._

Ginny had grown up, both mentally and physically. She knew it would never happen and had moved on. _Liar_. But now Harry had changed, and Ginny didn't know what she wanted anymore. Harry wasn't the type to flirt simply for the sake of it. He didn't flirt at all. And he didn't particularly do flings or fancies, either. He simply wasn't the type. Cho had been the exception, according to Hermione.

Sometimes she hated him, not because he was too mean, or too cruel, but because he was too good. He fought dark monsters and did the impossible on a regular basis. And he didn't think twice about it. He tried his best to the right thing, because few others would in the world of magic. He lived up to his legends as a knight in shining armour, and left them broken in his wake. But it was more than that. Harry was incredibly kind, and infuriatingly noble, and impossibly wonderful.

The girl who had loved the legends of Harry Potter had grown up, and had been replaced by the woman who loved the man that surpassed them.

* * *

As the patronus had said, I found the Headmaster in the entrance hall, clad in sky blue robes. He had been humming to himself as I arrived.

'Hello, Harry.' He greeted jovially. 'I take it you got my message then?'

I simply nodded. To be honest, it had probably been the best timing ever. I had no idea how I was supposed to talk myself out of the awkward hole I had dug for myself. The hole I couldn't resist digging. 'So where is this person?' I ask Dumbledore boredly.

'He is in the most charming village of Budleigh Babberton' Dumbledore answered cheerfully. I snort at the name. Who would call a villiage that? 'And how are we getting there?'

Dumbledore held out his arm. 'Apparation.' I frowned for a moment – one couldn't apparate within Hogwarts, but then I realised that that particular rule probably wouldn't apply to the headmaster of the school. Shrugging, I take hold of his arm. What could go wrong?

A second and the uncomfortable sensation of being squeezed through the eye of a needle later, we arrived in the village with the stupid name with a whirl of shapeless form and a _crack._ Surprisingly, given that it was only just past midday, the village seemed to be dead. No one milled about, and judging by the fountain we had appeared in the town center. 'Where is everyone?'

'Even the muggles are aware of the war, even if they don't understand it.' Dumbledore responded. 'Many now prefer to simply stay at home rather than socialise in the outdoors.' I nodded in understanding. Voldemort's Death Eaters had largely stayed quiet as of late, but his army of creatures – dementors, giants and vampires mostly – were still at large. Dumbledore signalled at me to follow him, and began to make his way down the street.

'Hey, Professor, what was that arrangement you were talking about yesterday?' I asked him. I had only just remembered. Dumbledore chuckled before answering. 'Well, due to your sudden –ah- increase in knowledge –' _My equivalent to being bitten by a radioactive spider,_ I corrected mentally – 'Your teachers have agreed that should you pass a series of exam-level tests they devise, then it shall be arranged for you to be exempt from homework, as well as have Monday and Friday afternoons off.'

I blinked. That was a bit more leniency than what I had been expecting. Still, I wasn't going to complain. 'That would be fantastic, sir.'

'Then it's settled. I shall make the arrangements when we…' Dumbledore trailed off, frowning. We had arrived at a house not unlike the many others, but this one had been – for lack of a better term – trashed. One of the windows had been smashed, and the blue front door was hanging off its hinges. 'Wands out, Harry.' Dumbledore ordered. I pulled it out and followed him through the open and freely swinging gate.

The interior was in even worse condition. Wallpaper was slashed and torn off; pictures had been blasted off the walls and lay on the floor in a thousand pieces. We entered the living room to find a lopsided piano minus one of its legs and the keys hanging off; the chandelier had been ripped down and old records were scattered across the floor. The only thing untouched was a plump, lilac armchair in the corner.

Something dripped onto my forehead. I looked up to the ceiling to find blood dripping down from a very convincing bloodstain. I was about to wipe it off when Dumbledore stopped me, and dabbed his finger on it before rather disgustingly tasting it. He turned around and scrutinised the room once more, before settling on the armchair. I cocked an eyebrow at the rather strange behaviour, but otherwise watched on impassively as he approached it. I was a bit surprised when he stabbed it and the chair yelped, before transforming into the form of an elderly, balding man with a walrus moustache.

'Merlin's beard, Albus! You didn't need to jab me like that!' The man cried.

'Hello Horace.' Dumbledore greeted merrily. 'Have you met my friend Harry?' He indicated me. Instantly, Horace stopped complaining and sized me up before extending his arm towards me.

'Horace Slughorn, m'boy, what can I do for you?'

* * *

_Hogwarts Castle – August 4__th_

Five of the people I trust the most sat before me in the Gryffindor common room. Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna and Ginny were all looking at me questioningly. I had taken up a position on the armchair of my favourite armchair, and was simply tossing up a shiny green apple up into the air as I collected my thoughts. The time had come to tell them everything and offer them a choice I never had been offered myself.

'You remember the prophecy from the night at the Ministry?' I asked them. All of them nodded. 'The one that broke and none of us heard.' I continued. Hermione, bless her, already knew where I was going.

'You heard it somehow, didn't you?' She asked. I smiled sadly before explaining. 'It was made to a certain Albus Dumbledore by a certain Sybill Trelawny – yes, Hermione, she is actually a Seer.' I cut away, before Hermione could say anything. 'And he had a memory of it to use in his Pensieve.' I sighed. 'It's the reason for everything.'

'Everything?' Ron asked, confused. I nodded, pointing at my infamous lightning scar. 'It's the reason Voldemort attacked my family that Halloween. It's the reason I have this scar. It's the reason…' I paused and took an overly-dramatic bite of the apple, because I'm cool like that. 'that I have to fight.'

'What did it say, Harry?' Neville pressed. I laughed slightly, before reciting the words that had brought a madman to my door.

'_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who had thrice defied him. Born as the seventh month dies. The Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal, but he will have the power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies.'_

I finished speaking the prophecy quietly, while the others looked on in thoughtful contemplation. 'Hang on. The seventh month?' I grinned. I had wondered who would realise. Neville continued: 'Does that mean -?'

'Yes, Neville. You could've been the Chosen One.' I informed him dryly. Part of me wonders what would've happened if he had. Would I have had a carefree life with a family who loved me? Or would I have ended up with the Dursley's regardless after my parents were tortured into a catatonic state? So many possibilities of what could have been. All that's left now is the future we make for ourselves.

'Why are you telling us this?' Ron asked. 'Because you're my friends.' I said. 'Or because I trust you guys more than anyone.' I took another bite of the apple. Make or break time. 'Because you have a choice.' I finished.

'A choice.' Ginny stated quizzically. I nodded and breathed. 'I have to fight him. You don't. You can all walk away now, from all the danger I've yet to bring you.' I was being my damned noble self here, but also selfish by giving them the opportunity to stay and fight and possibly be killed.

'So choose.' Choose to fight and possibly die with me, or live and hopefully survive unscathed.

None of them moved. The decision I had put to them wasn't really a choice at all. We all knew they wouldn't run away. I had rubbed off on them too much.

'I'm not going anywhere.' Ron said resolutely. Hermione followed suit almost instantly. 'Me neither.' I had begun to smile now, despite what I had possibly condemned my friends to. 'I'll stick by you Harry.' Neville promised. Luna, lovely Luna smiled cheerfully and said: 'The star nymphs say I should help you.

That just left Ginny. We had all turned to her, waiting for what she would say. She looked me in the eye, before throwing me a saucy wink. 'Who ways a boring life, anyways?'

I laughed. I now had the support of the five best friends I ever had. Really, I had always had it, and would probably never lose it. 'So what're your plans, Harry?' Ron asked. I grinned at them all and took a third bite of my apple – which now seemed to taste all the better.

'Firstly, Voldemort uses these things called Horcruxes to give himself a form of immortality. Dumbledore and I are going to be searching for them during the school year.' I would go into more detail about that later. I was more interested in telling them about my plans involving them at the moment. 'But I was planning something a bit closer to home for us.'

'And what's that, Harry?' Luna asked. I wondered if she was even listening to the conversation, if the dreamy visage was anything to go by, the answer was no.

'Dumbledore's Army.' I said simply. 'We're going to bring it back. And make it bigger and brighter.'

'Did Dumbledore say you could continue it?' Hermione asked inquisitively. I nodded my head and continued, still smiling. 'It's going to be an open club. Any year or house can join.' I turned to Hermione and addressed her specifically: 'You're going to need to make up a new contract.'

'Sure thing.'

'It's not just going to be just a defense club though.' I told them. 'It's also going to be the eyes and ears within Hogwarts. Any suspicious behaviour, anything out of the norm'll get back to us. And then we tell the teachers, or the Aurors or the Order. No one has to fight should the Death Eaters come to call.' I said placatingly. 'But they'll still be expected to sound the alarm.'

For a while, no one spoke, but then: 'That's…inspired.' Ron said. I shrugged. 'Students hear a lot of things the teachers don't.'

'I'm not bashing it, just a bit surprised, is all.' Ron said hastily.

I nodded in acceptance. 'It's just a little something to help out. I was actually thinking about turning it into a general study club where the students help each other.'

'That's actually a really good idea Harry.' Hermione said. I smiled before taking one final bite out of my apple. The DA was just a skipping stone for everything, but hell, Rome wasn't built in a day; and all my other plans for political reform were for after Voldemort was dead.

* * *

_August 7__th_

The tests that had been devised by the different teachers were basically mini-exams. Each one was a series of questions devised by each teacher of the subject. Transfiguration, Charms and Herbology had all been a walk in the park. Snape had made the Potions test unnecessarily hard – some of it had been seventh-year material – but I was otherwise alright. The final test, much to my interest, had be created by Dumbledore himself, and I was waiting eagerly in the Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom for his arrival.

When he arrived, he didn't have any sort of immediately obvious test with him. After a brief exchange of pleasantries; Dumbledore explained the nature of the task. 'I would like you to duel me.'

'What, just like that?' I asked, confused. He hadn't even drawn his wand. 'Yes.' He answered simply. Nervously, I drew my wand. He still hadn't drawn his. I stared at him uncertainly. Dumbledore smiled encouragingly.

Shrugging, I aimed my wand at him before firing off a simple Disarming Charm. Then, lightning-fast, Dumbledore had drawn his wand, blocked my spell and returned with one of his own. I was instantly on the defensive; blocking, dodging and deflecting a myriad of impossibly quick spells. On the rare instance I managed to return fire it was deftly deflected.

And Dumbledore wasn't even trying. He had a bored, almost lazy expression on his face as he continued the assault. I was in deep shit. Eventually, I slipped up and took a trio of spells to the head. I was blasted back on to my ass; Boils began to form, and I was laughing uncontrollably.

With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore reversed the effects and I realised what the point of the whole exercise had been. I had spent a hundred years learning, and yet I couldn't hold a candle to Dumbledore or Voldemort in combat ability.

'You cannot afford to get complacent, Harry.' Dumbledore told me in all seriousness. 'You may have the knowledge; but you lack the experience to use it to its full potential.' He stated. I coughed and looked at Dumbledore with a newfound respect. I was going to have to get my ass in gear if I wanted to beat Voldemort. 'However.' He said. 'You did do better than what I had expected; I believe the arrangement is valid.' He finished with a smile.

I managed to sit up, and could already feel bruises starting to form on my back. I coughed, and winced. Guess I better get practicing then.

* * *

Jackson Tibus smirked as he looked down at the issue of the _Daily Prophet_ in front of him. He was very pleased with himself.

_**JACKSON TIBUS SUCCEEDS DUMBLEDORE**_

_By Emily Earwhile_

_In the aftermath of the shocking attack on the Ministry, the hero of the battle, Jackson Tibus was sworn in today as both the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards (ICW) and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. He has replaced Albus Dumbledore in amidst concerns that the grand sorcerer is no longer fit to manage the political stage, just weeks after being reinstated after a smear campaign by ex-Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge._

_(Cont. on page 4)_

It was just the first steps in a greater plan, but there were still a few more gears left to align in the grand clockwork of his majestic dream.

* * *

_August 11__th __, 18:07 – The Burrow _

At Mr and Mrs Weasley's insistence, the celebrations for Ginny's fifteenth birthday had been held at the Burrow. Underneath the protective canopy of wards and magical defences, a party was in full swing. School friends milled about, eating from food-covered plates on a table groaning under the strain.

Ginny had opened her presents already. As could be expected for a teenage girl, she received a large amount of clothes and jewellery. Unlike most teenage girls, she had also been given a large number of Quidditch-related gifts, along with a selection of prank materials from the twins. Charlie had given her a dragonhide leather jacket, and Bill had gifted her with –surprisingly- a music box he said he had found in one of the Egyptian tombs he had broken into.

I had thought about getting her a broom, but that just seemed unnecessarily flashy. Hey, I'm Quidditch captain this year, gotta think about the team. Instead I had decided on something simple: a small sliver pendant; devoid of any obtuse design elements, it had a few extra enchantments I had added to it – a few protective charms, and a spell that would cause the pendant to heat up when the wearer was about to ingest something poisonous.

Ginny herself was dancing with Dean in the centre of the garden to the Goo Goo Dolls. I had sequestered myself away in a corner of the garden, content to watch the joyful guests mingle and dance and laugh. I was subtly my fourth year, and the Yule Ball. I still hadn't figured out dancing since then.

Hermione had noticed my lonely self and disentangled herself from a group of girls she had been chatting to and made her way over me. 'Not feeling the festivities?' Hermione asked, sitting herself down next to me. 'Nah. I don't do parties.' I told her. Didn't particularly dig the large groups of strangers, or the dancing.

We settled into a calm serenity, observing the party. Hermione, I noticed with amusement, seemed to be fixated on observing Ron. I watched her stare at him for a good two minutes, before deciding to start with the teasing. 'So when is Ronald going to ask you out?' I quipped. Hermione jumped, startled and quickly stuttered: 'Wh-what? I don't like him like that!'

'Just like how I don't like Ginny?' I countered. Any sad sap in love could recognise another.

Hermione sighed. 'Yes. But…'

'You're scared that it won't work and that if you break up it'll mess up your friendship.' I finished for her.

'We bicker all the time.' Hermione pointed out sadly. 'I don't see how –'

'Hermione Jean Granger, you need to realise that Ron is an idiot that has the emotional range of a teaspoon.' I told her. 'If you got together, would you bicker? Yes. Would it matter? No.'

I looked her directly in the eye. 'Love isn't about ignoring faults; it's about loving someone because of them as well as their virtues.'

'When did you get all wise and all-knowing?' Hermione laughed. I seemed to have gotten through, if only slightly. 'Lots of bad books and television.' I joked. Hermione raised an eyebrow. Just then, there was a loud cheer and we both turned to see Ron somehow dancing the robot.

'Looks like the twins spiked his drink.' Hermione snorted, although there was an endeared look about her. She probably found it cute. Mrs Weasley didn't seem to appreciate it though; she had grabbed both of the twins by the ears and had dragged them inside, while calling for Hermione to "keep an eye on things". Hermione giggled, before looking at me apologetically. 'I better go.' She lamented.

'Mind and ask out Ronald.' I teased. Hermione blushed crimson, before walking off to tend to another matter. I watched her go with a smile. Those two really needed to admit their love for each other. Luckily I had a plan for that. I decided to close my eyes and get some rest.

I must have been out for an hour or two, because when I woke up the sun had set into twilight and the party had become more subdued, with most of the guests having left. However, the birthday girl herself now stood above me, carrying a plate of cupcakes. Have I ever mentioned how beautiful Ginny is? How _hot?_ The light from the dying sun caught her hair just right and made it shine.

'Hey, Harry.' Ginny said quietly. Almost shyly. I smiled at her before patting the spot Hermione had vacated earlier. 'Take a pew.' Ginny looked around –probably for Dean- and shrugged, before sitting down next to me. 'Had a good birthday then?' I asked. Ginny beamed, before replying. 'Of course. Thank you for the pendant, by the way.' She added.

'Not a problem.' I told her.

Ginny glanced around nervously, as if talking about something private, before grinning slightly and leaning in. For an instant I was overwhelmed by her scent – apple and wildflowers. 'Better than what Dean got me, at any rate.' That garnered my interest. 'Oh?' I prompted. Ginny sighed, before explaining. 'He got me a book called _The Modern House-Witch._' She deadpanned.

'He didn't.' I gaped disbelievingly. Dean was a moron.

'He did.' She said. 'I wanted to throw it at him, honestly.'

'I can see why.' Ginny laughed. She looked at the plate in her hands thoughtfully, before smiling and carefully picking up one of the cakes. 'Open up.' She ordered playfully. I cocked an eyebrow in question. 'C'mon, you can trust me.' She promised, pouting.

Sighing in mock resignation, I lean forward and slowly – and feeling stupid all the while – take a bite of the proffered treat, careful not to bite her slender fingers. Ginny smirked. 'See, knew I had you eating out of the palm of my hand.'

I chuckled and blushed. I was about to come back with some fantastic witty retort when I suddenly noticed something strange. The sky was _shimmering_. 'What's wrong, Harry?' Ginny asked concerned at my sudden change of mood. 'The wards are being pulled down.' I told her quickly, before jumping to my feet. 'Get the Order members.' I told her. Thankfully, she didn't ask any questions and swiftly left.

I drew my wand and surveyed the skies, looking for any hint, any detail that would shed light on the situation. Of course it was the Death Eaters; But which ones, and why? Who were they after? I hoped I could stop them – if the Burrow gets trashed, it'll be hell finding another place for Bill and Fleur's wedding. Two streams of black smoke trailed across the sky, before beginning to come towards the Burrow. Smoke Travel, then. That meant experienced or at least important Death Eaters; it was an old trick that had been abandoned in favour of Apparation. Voldemort had taught it to some of his followers to give them an advantage in battle. Dumbledore had followed shortly after.

Ginny had returned with her parents, Remus and Tonks. The screech of the faltering wards permeated the world, and then a ring of burning fire erupted around the Burrow, keeping us trapped within. One of the smoke columns crashed within the ring and resolved itself into the demented insane form of one of the few people I could honestly say I despised more than Voldemort.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

All my reasoning went out the window. All that was left was the insanity and illogicality that she had left in a broken boy's mind. Before anyone can react, I began to hurl the fury of my magical prowess at the demented woman. All hell broke loose and spellfights broke out across the garden; though I was the only one with an identified enemy – the rest remained as smoke columns casting curses as they soared around the Burrow.

* * *

Ginny had followed one of the smoke walkers out into the fields through a now-closed gap in the fire-ring, and she pursued this quarry with a grim determination. She pushed through the corn-rows with practiced ease from childhood memories.

Eventually, she came out into a small clearing. And in that clearing was her prey: Fenrir Greyback; the leader of Volemort's werewolf forces.

Although Ginny was unnerved by the smirking man, she knew better than to waste time with pointless banter. She raised her wand and sent every spell she could think of at the terrible man. He blocked every single one of them, and when she tried to bind him with conjured ropes, he caught them from the air and threw them back her, knocking her over and causing her to drop her wand in the dark.

As the werewolf drew closer, teeth bared in a feral grin that promised only pain, Ginny realised that she had made a fatal mistake. She did the only thing she could think of.

She screamed.

* * *

Bellatrix had fled from the battle and into the corn-fields through a space she had created in the ring. I hadn't given a second thought to pursuing her; despite the cries of the others I had left to man the fort in my absence. She had a good twenty feet on me – a mile in the impossible to navigate fields – but I kept track by following her voice. She cackled and boasted of past victories and dead memories.

'I killed Sirius Black!' Just wait till I get my hands on you. Then you won't be so happy.

A scream echoed out across the night and I realised with a sinking feeling that it was Ginny's. Something had happened to her. I skidded to a halt, distressed about what to do. Do I let Bellatrix get away? Do I go help Ginny.

Love or revenge.

Ginny or Bellatrix.

I yelled in frustration, before ploughing through the fields in the direction the scream had come from.

* * *

Ginny shuddered as the monster ran a calloused finger across her cheek. 'You..will make a lovely _pet_.' Greyback growled in an animalistic tone, eyeing her perversely. Ginny felt tears begin to form, but refused to let them fall. She closed her eyes shut waiting for the inevitable.

There was a roar, and suddenly the pressure on Ginny lessened. She snapped her eyes open to find Harry – why was it always Harry? – fighting Greyback. Harry slashed his wand, creating a shower of sliver snowflakes which caused Greyback to flee in fear.

Suddenly, Ginny felt sleepy, and her eyelids began to droop. The last thing she saw before falling asleep was Harry moving towards her and felt the weightless sensation of being lifted into his arms.

* * *

I carried Ginny back towards the Burrow in my arms, bridal-style. I was too tired to care what the others would think. I had just had to let the bitch that killed Sirius and tortured me escape. Did I regret saving Ginny? Hell no. I just wished that I could've done both.

When I reached the Burrow, the fires had been extinguished and other than a single broken window, the haphazardly built house remained intact. Ignoring the concerned onlookers for the moment, I entered and carefully laid Ginny down on the couch. Then I turned to the others and told them that she was simply sleeping out of stress and exhaustion.

My temper flared when Dean entered the room. The bastard hadn't even fought. Not even thinking, I marched over to him, and punched him. Hard. The idiot crumpled to the floor and someone yelled my name.

'Where the _hell_ were you?' I snarled. Dean, to his merit, had the decency to look ashamed. 'You should have followed her!'

'What was I supposed to do against Death Eaters?' Dean defended. I rolled my eyes. 'I taught you how to defend yourself, didn't I? You were in Dumbledore's Army!'

'Harry, that doesn't mean I could fight a Death Eater!' Dean yelled.

I cocked an eyebrow and gestured to Ginny. 'She's a year younger than you and she's managed it.'

'Not everyone wants to fight Death Eaters Harry! I don't want to fight!' Dean retorted. I glared at him. 'And that's why I have to. 'Cause fucking cowards like you won't grow a pair and stand up against the bad guy.'

'You know what your problem is Harry?' Dean snapped. 'You're an idealistic idiot who thinks he can do anything.'

'I _can _do anything.' I retorted. 'Anyone can, if they push themselves enough.'

'You think you're so noble, and self-sacrificing; you probably think you're the best friend ever.'

'I'm not even close.' I replied sadly. 'But I've taken a Killing Curse for one of my friends, Thomas. What've you ever done?'

Dean had no answer to that. His jaw worked for a moment, trying to word an intelligent reply. He gave up, and turned to leave, muttering about 'Fucking assholes.'

I blew out a sigh, and turned around to find the whole Wesley family staring at me. George turned to his twin brother. 'Fred?'

'Yes, brother of mine?'

'Remind me never to piss off Harry.'

* * *

_**A/N: **__As always, read, review and whatever else._

_Peace out._


	7. It's All Beginning, Now

_**Disclaimer: **__Bonnie Wright is a model? Why have I not heard of this before?_

_**A/N: **__I'm trying to add a bit detail to the chapters. Should be interesting to see how this works out. Also, I've decided to go double quote marks for speech to make it easier to read. And is it me, or does writing in third-person make writing longer chapters easier?_

* * *

_**Harry Potter and the Broken Miracle**_

_Chapter Seven – It's All Beginning, Now_

_"Love is a boy by poets styl'd:  
Then spare the rod and spoil the child."_

_~ Samuel Butler, "Hubridias"_

I awoke from an unusually dreamless sleep to find the first rays of daylight streaming through the window and across my face. I relaxed back into the cot and basked in their slight warmth. After the events of the night prior, we had opted to simply stay at the Burrow, rather than return to Hogwarts. I was in Ron's room – its typical ordered chaos was the same as it had always been, although many of the schoolbooks (normally left stacked half-heartedly in the corner) and other school supplies were absent due to them staying at Hogwarts until the start of them. Other than that, the only appreciable difference was the new large poster for the Chudley Cannons – Ron's favourite Quidditch team.

As I lay there, I reflected on the events of the night before. Bellatrix had escaped, I lamented. But Ginny was – and always would be – prioritised over half-planned ideas of painful revenge. Perhaps it was for the best, I considered. What would I have done if I had caught her? As much as I would like to, I don't have the heart –or lack of it, depending on perspective- to kill her in cold blood. I'm not above fighting aggressively, or dirty, but I had too many morals. Too many limits I couldn't ignore.

Still, there was little to be done about it. Live and let live, and all that jazz.

I climbed out of the cot, and stretched. Ron was still asleep, and I left him there as I set about getting changed and ready for the day. A quick shower and a change of clothes later, I was ready for the day ahead. We would be going to Diagon Alley to gather our school things – Dumbledore had informed me that there would be a Halloween (Who the hell does that?) Ball, and the annual school letter had confirmed it. Given yesterday's attack, the Weasley parents were quite justified in their concerns, but we had convinced them to allow us some normalcy.

It was just past ten o'clock when I headed down the stairs to find Mrs Weasley in the kitchen cooking her delicious breakfast food. She noticed me entering and smiled. "Hello, dear." She said, and began putting together a plate for me. "Hello, Misses Weasley." I greeted happily, before sitting down. She placed down a plate full of food and told me: "Once you've finished, Ginny wants to talk to you."

I turned to her in surprise. "Really? What about?"

Mrs Weasley shrugged. "She didn't say. She's at the pond."

I thanked her and began to eat. My thoughts were racing. What did Ginny want to talk about?

When I finished eating, I made my way out back into the Burrow's garden. A few gnomes were milling about, grumbling about something or other but I ignored them and continued on. The Weasley's had a large back garden (although they didn't legally own it), made of wide fields. A single dirt worn trail carved a thin path to a small body of water, and that was where I was headed now.

Sure enough, when I arrived, Ginny sat in the shade underneath a nearby tree. She noticed my arrival and smiled, before gesturing me over. Upon reaching her, I said to her: "Your mum said you wanted to talk?"

"Er, yeah, I did." Ginny replied sheepishly. She seemed rather nervous. "Take a seat." She instructed. I did as I was told without a word, and waited for the redhead to continue. Ginny opened her mouth, then thought better of it and closed it again.

It was nice here. From this spot you couldn't see the Burrow, or any part of Ottery St. Catchpole. You could almost think it was its own little world, separated from the rest of humanity through a veil of peaceful serenity. The pond was still, and clear. Flowers had sprung up all around here, but there wasn't anything that could be considered a weed or a pest in sight.

"I've spilt up with Dean." Ginnny said suddenly, and quickly.

"Oh?" I had sat up slightly, and had a hard time hiding my interest. "How come?"

_Because you want to snap his hand off every time it gets close to Ginny._

"It just wasn't working. We wanted different things."

"Oh."

I really didn't know what to say. What could I say?

Ginny gently plucked a few blades of grass and examined them thoughtfully, obviously thinking about how to continue. Eventually, she opened the palm of her small hand and blew them away, watching them float away in the gentle almost-breeze. Then she did the strangest thing. She laughed.

"You really have no idea do you?"

"About what?" I asked, nonplussed.

"About what you do to people." Ginny said. She was staring at me intently now. "You change people, Harry. You make them better people."

"No I don't." I denied. I was just the kid from the cupboard under the stairs; built on a set of incredible coincidences that I survived through luck more than any inherent skill. "You do." Ginny insisted. "You show people a better way of how to live. Look at Ron and Hermione and Neville. They would've been totally different people if they had never met you."

I supposed she was right. I was the effective catalyst for all the adventures we've had – and therefore the effects they had on us, for good or ill. "Where are you going with this?" I asked wearily.

"I don't know." Ginny admitted honestly. "You're impossible and brilliant and wonderful – but that's not what's impressive. It's the fact you don't care. You're just Harry; not the Boy-Who-Lived, or the Chosen One, or anything like that; Just plain old regular Harry Potter."

Her words had begun to fill me with a warm feeling. Hope had begun to blossom in my chest. Maybe she was about to tell what I've been hoping to here for a lifetime and a few weeks.

"You got this strange inner-strength; you never give up, and you always do what you think is right whatever it takes. It's why we all look up to you; you make us feel like we can do anything."

"I didn't know." I admitted honestly. Ginny laughed. "Of course you didn't; otherwise it wouldn't be that way."

My smile grew at that. "Ginny…I want to tell you something."

Ginny smiled too, and her whole face brightened up. We both knew where I was going.

"Before Hogwarts, I was never really happy." I began quietly. "But when I met your brother, that all changed. I was happy. People liked me. But you…" I trailed off, thinking about to word such intricate thoughts and tumultuous emotions. "You make me _so_ happy. The way you smile; the way you laugh at bad jokes…the way you frown when you're thinking. Everything you do makes my heart dance in a way I've felt before. And I don't know all that much about girls, and about love…but I'd spend the rest of my life with you, if you'll let me."

I paused before saying the three words that said too much but not nearly enough. "I love you."

Ginny didn't say anything. Then, oh so slowly, she gently took my face in her soft hands, before beginning to lean closer. Her eyes glanced at my lips, and I closed my eyes as our lips met in a simple, warm kiss, devoid of passion or lust, but full of loving tenderness. My heart soared and the lion in my chest roared in approval as I melted into the kiss. She tasted like cherry.

After a lifetime and a heartbeat, we pulled apart reluctantly, and I looked deep into her entrancing chocolate orbs.

"I love you too, Harry." She murmured.

We lay there for a while, basking in the warmth and bliss these revelations had brought us. We didn't say anything, for there was no need. It was all out in the open now, and we knew that whatever troubles came our way, we would conquer them together.

Eventually, we both acknowledged that as much as we didn't want to, we would have to go back to her family. And so, as slowly as we could realistically manage we began to wander back towards the Burrow. On the way, Ginny slipped her hand into mine and I marvelled at how soft it was. It seemed as if our hands were made to hold each other; they fitted together like some sort of living puzzle.

I'm starting to sound sappy aren't I? Who cares, I was with Ginny now.

"I thought you were just going to push me away; be your usual noble self." Ginny mentioned to me. I was so caught up in my own little world it took me a while to answer. "I would've." I admitted quietly. "But you wouldn't have listened." Then, as an afterthought. "It was nice to be selfish for once."

Ginny smiled. "It's not selfish to indulge in love; it's human."

I smiled too. I was smiling a lot today. It was strange, this. Fantastic, wonderful, blissful. But still strange. This level of closeness; this level of intimacy, was alien to me. I was in unknown territory here; but I had the only one I would ever want to light up the way ahead.

Eventually, we reached the Burrow. We entered into the kitchen to find Ron waiting for us. "Finally." He grumbled. "Mum and 'Mione are waiting to…" He suddenly noticed my dazed expression, Ginny's smirk and our entwined hands. 'Why are you holding hands?' He demanded.

Ginny didn't reply with words, and instead kissed me again, and I could take in her enthralling aroma of apples and wildflowers. "Answer your question?" Ginny asked Ron cheerfully. For a moment, Ron didn't say anything. Then, he reached over and pulled out a chair from the kitchen table. "Have a seat, Harry."

Ginny's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Ron-"

"Have a seat, Harry." Ron repeated in a tone that brokered no argument. Not sure why and not quite caring, I reluctantly let go of Ginny's hand and took the seat Ron had offered. "How do you feel about my sister, Harry?"

"I love her." I breathed. Suddenly it occurred to me that if Ron disapproved, I was either going to lose either one of my best friends or my new girlfriend. I would've been down a friend, if it came to that.

"What do you expect to happen with her?"

"A life."

Ron's angry expression faded slightly. "How far would you go for her?"

"To the end of time itself." I think Ron's forgetting that I've already proved this point. I did take a Killing Curse for her a lifetime ago. Or had it been a few weeks? I wasn't sure. I saw out of the corner of my eye that Ginny had a small smile now, due to my answers.

Ron sighed, and moved back, allowing me to stand up. "Alright, you can date her." He said. "But keep the snogging to a minimum around me and don't you dare push her for something. She's my only sister, and if I find you've mistreated her in anyway, I'll beat the crap out of you; best friend or not." He threatened. I would've laughed in his face if he didn't look so serious. Ginny was probably going to be the bad influence, not me.

"Yes, Ron." I said. Ginny was glaring murderously at her youngest brother; obviously she didn't appreciate the protective sentiment. She didn't say anything though, and the three of us entered the living room to find Mrs Weasley and Hermione waiting, beaming.

"You and Ginny are a couple now?" Hermione asked. "We overhead you in the kitchen." She apologetically offered by way of explanation. I blushed, before sheepishly replying. "Er, yeah. I guess we are."

"Congratulations!" Hermione cheered. Mrs Weasley on the other hand, marched over to her youngest son and cuffed him upside the head. "Don't you know better than to try and protect her? She hexed Charlie for trying to threaten that Connor boy!"

"Really?" I asked Ginny in amusement. "Oh yeah, that was fun." Ginny reminisced.

"It took me a week to put him right! You were grounded for a month." Mrs Weasley said, annoyed.

"Worth it." Ginny shrugged nonchalantly, and Mrs Weasley rolled her eyes in exasperation. It suddenly occurred to me that I had chosen to fall in love with a girl with six older and very much over-protective brothers; two of which were distinguished pranksters. While I didn't doubt Ginny could keep them from killing me outright, I was a bit nervous of possible threats and attacks by the Weasley crew.

Mrs Weasley sighed. "Ready to go then?" We all answered affirmatively, and she went over to the mantelpiece to retrieve a small tin pot, which I knew would be filled with the grey Floo Powder I abhorred with a passion. I took note of the large grandfather clock to the side; all the hands save Ron's, Ginny's and Mrs Weasley's were pointed at_ Work_. Theirs were pointed at _Home._

Mrs Weasley opened the tin and took a pinch of the powder, before throwing it into the fireplace. Instantly, the fire burst to life in a swath of emerald green flame. "Do I have to do it?" I whined. "Can't I just apparate instead?"

"You can't apparate." Hermione pointed out.

"Can so, I learned last week." I told them smugly. Ron rolled his eyes, while Ginny looked interested. "Ooh, teach me?"

"Yes dear."

Mrs Weasley chose that time to but in. "No teaching my daughter anything of the sort. And no you can't: you don't have a license and you're underage."

With an overly-dramatic sigh, I walked over to the fireplace and stepped into the flames. "Bah, fine. I'll use the stupid Floo system. _Diagon Alley."_

* * *

Every time. Every fucking time I use the damn Floo network I land on my face like a fool. I came crashing down into the foyer of the Leaky Cauldron, landing hard. I managed to get to my feet grumbling and dust myself off. Over the course of the next minute Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Mrs Weasley all arrived in an explosion of green fire one by one. Rather annoyingly, they all arrived flawlessly with barely a stumble.

"You just haven't got the balance for it." Ginny teased as we walked towards Gringotts. We were holding hands again, and it was nice. The alley seemed to have gotten even worse since my last visit with Hermione. Even more shops were deserted and boarded up – Florean Fortescue's and Ollivander's among them.

We reached the white marble of the wizarding bank and entered. The rows of high counters stretched across the coloured stone floors; illumination was provided by a series of crystalline chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling.

Our entourage wandered over to the nearest free counter. The nameplate said the Goblin's name was _Bedorn_. "Names and requests." Bedorn grumbled, not even bothering to look up.

"Weasley and Potter." Mrs Weasley answered tritely. "We'd like to take some money out of our respective vaults."

Bedorn nodded boredly, and leaned over to pull some papers out of a low-down drawer, before dumping them in front of Mrs Weasley. "Sign here; we'd also like to discuss some investment options." He said.

Mrs Weasley was confused. "Investment options?" She repeated uncertainly. "But we have nothing to invest?" She informed the goblin. Bedorn finally looked up from his paperwork with an annoyed expression. "I beg to differ." He said coldly. "Two weeks ago the sum of fifty thousand galleons was transferred to your vault by a Mister Harry Potter. Sign here to show your acceptance at receiving said money." He said simply.

I glared at the goblin. "You weren't supposed to _tell _them!" Bedorn simply shrugged in response.

The Weasleys plus Hermione all turned towards me. I sighed, waiting for the argument.

Sure enough, Mrs Weasley was the one to voice her refusal: "Harry, we don't need charity."

"It's not charity." I said. "Ever since I first met all of you, I've watched your family struggle with money; I'm sick of it. You're some of the best people I know and if any deserves it, it's you."

"But Harry, fifty thousand would've cleared you out."

"Just enough left to get me through school and some sweets." I admitted. "Guess I'll have to get a job. That'll be fun."

Mrs Weasley was about to argue again when I cut her off. "Listen, just take the money. If you don't I just give you twice as much." Finally, she accepted and made to sign the form. "Thank you, Harry." She said, albeit with noted reluctance. Bedorn nodded boredly.

Then, he reached down and pulled out a second form. "Sign here, Mister Potter."

Now I was confused. "Eh? What for?"

Bedorn glared in annoyance. "Albus Dumbledore has arranged for your discrete emancipation. Basically; you'll be considered an adult by magical law, and be entitled to all benefits and subject to all laws that entails, although the Trace will not break until you turn seventeen. Sign."

Interesting. I skim-read the contract. Just as Bedorn had said, it was signed by Dumbledore and said that I would be legally an adult by the Ministry. As I signed it, I made a mental note to thank Dumbledore next time I saw him.

Once I had signed it, Bedorn nodded, and stamped the forms with the seal of Gringotts. "Would you like to see your vault?"

"My vault?" I ask curiously. I couldn't see why I would want to see the severely depleted vault. The was nothing interesting there. "Your _family _vault, Mister Potter." Bedorn snapped. "The one you have being using was merely a trust vault set up to see you through your school years. Upon emancipation you gain access to the vault as the sole heir to the Potter line."

"Really?"

"Really."

I glanced at the others, silently questioningly wondering whether I should. When they all nodded back encouragingly, I shrugged and said. "Sure; what the hell."

Bedorn nodded, and jumped down from his little counter, and gestured us to follow him. We did, and he led us to the minecarts that would take us to our vaults. As we rode along the unnervingly frail looking tracks, suspended miles above any ground in the dark, grim caverns, I considered the sensibility of this mode of transport. Why didn't they just use an apparition or portkey system? I think it was just because they liked to scare the customers.

We arrived outside a set of vaults indistinguishable from all the others. Bedorn left us in the cart and waddled over to the vault numbered 729. "Well, are you just going to sit around all day?" The little goblin grumbled. We all clambered out of the cart and moved over to the vault.

"Open it, Mister Potter." Bedorn instructed.

"Er…how?" I didn't have a key.

"Place your hand on the door." He explained. "And it will recognise you."

I shrugged, and did as I was told. As I pressed my hand on the grooved door, I heard the clicks of a hundred different gears and mechanisms unlocking. I stood back and the door creaked open outwards.

What was inside was…surprising, to say the least. Mountains of gold galleons, sliver sickles and bronze knuts were piled up to the ceiling. A multitude of ancient and expensive family heirlooms were scattered around the room. In the far corner, there was a pile of old books, and in the other, a set of armour.

"Oh yay, even more money." I muttered sarcastically. Behind me, Ginny laughed. "Why do you hate money so much?"

"Just don't care for it." I murmured quietly. I like to think I've earned what I had in life, rather than have it given to me on the proverbial silver platter. Ginny rolled her eyes, and followed me in, along with the others.

We spent a few minutes browsing. The Weasley ladies interested themselves with the various ugly and overly embellished heirlooms and Ron examined the suit of armour. Hermione of course, made a beeline for the books. I simply wandered among the stacks of coins with disinterest. None of this interested me. As I decided that my paternal family had very, _very _bad taste in jewellery, I noticed a simple wooden box; the kind designed to hold a ring or small jewel. I prised open the box to find a simple ring. Unlike the rest of the artefacts, the ring was modest in its construction; It was a dull gold band, completely unmarked save for a series of runes on the inside of the band. Whereas the rest of the heirlooms looked to be simply garish and ornamental, this ring seemed to have a specific function. I pocketed it just as Hermione gave an excited squeal.

"Oh my god – Harry!" She cried. In her hands was one of the books from the corner – it was tatty, well-aged and peeling at the corners. "This is Merlin's _Theory of Magic_! There were only seven ever made, and three of them were lost! I would love to translate this!"

I shrugged. "Keep it."

Hermione stared at me in disbelief. "Harry – this is probably the most sought after book in the whole world." She explained. I shrugged again.

"There's no one else I'd trust with it more." I told her smiling with amusement. She squealed again and hugged me.

"Hey, Harry." Ron called. I turned to him to find he was holding a small envelope. "It's got your name on it."

I manoeuvred around the vault to reach him and accepted the letter carefully. Sure enough, scrawled on the front was "_For Harry."_ Slowly, I tore open the envelope to pull out a sheet of parchment, and it mounting excitement and trepidation I began to read.

_Dear Harry,_

_If you're reading this then Voldemort has managed to find us, and you survived and we didn't. You probably know about the Prophecy as well; and just in case: We Do Not Blame You for it. You were just a child given the possibility of a difficult burden. We knew the risks when we joined the Order._

_Now, onto more important things. If you're reading this it means you've reached majority and can access the family vault. This also means you're now Head of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter. There's technically a bunch of political legalese to go along with that; but if you're anything like me you won't care. Technically you're supposed to find a well-off pure-blood family to arrange a marriage with, but I couldn't care less. Be with who you love, regardless of who they are. If you truly love them then that's all that matters. _

_Now, onto the FUN stuff. Chances are you're aware you need to fight Voldemort. That's okay; I know you can win. There's a couple of things you can get to help you. Dumbledore has my old Invisibility Cloak – ask him for it and he'll give you it, if he hasn't already. And in this vault there's a very useful trinket called a Ring of Deceit. It's a simple gold ring –_

So that's what it is, I noted.

_and what it does is it hides your magical signature by randomly scrambling it. Makes it practically impossible for any magic to get traced back to you. Dead useful for evading things like the Trace._

_Good luck my son, and remember: Potter's go for redheads. It's the family blessing._

_Your loving father, James._

I finished reading the letter thoughtfully. My parents had known the specifics of why they had to go into hiding. I briefly wondered what sort of parents they would've been if Voldemort never existed. Mum would've been kind and caring; but stern if necessary. Dad would've been the bad influence; encouraging me to prank and laugh my troubles away. Bit shit I had never been given the chance to find out if I was right.

"Harry?" Mrs Weasley asked. All of them were looking at me sympathetically. Blinking away the few tears that had begun to form, I breathed out a shaky sigh.

"I'm fine. Let's get out of here."

* * *

_Sometimes…sometimes you just have to do what's right, and not what is easy._

* * *

After the trip to Diagon Alley, the five of us had to return to Hogwarts, along with Neville and Luna, who had visited their families instead. For the rest of the holidays, there was nothing more exciting happening that the occasional rain for us. However, Voldemort had stepped up his attacks. Every other day, the _Daily Prophet_ carried news of more attacks, more deaths. No one we knew, but there was always those few seconds of sudden anxiety whenever the delivery owls approached.

Ginny and I used the time to explore our new relationship with one another; we didn't go any further than kissing, but we seemed to move from the uncertainty of being a new couple to something new, something different. A quick kiss in the corridors, a tiny smile over breakfast. A whispered "I love you" before going to bed. It was intimately nice; I was so much more comfortable with Ginny than I was with Cho. We had developed an almost-habit of mildly flirting with each when we were with others; but when we were alone there was a loving, gentle tenderness.

Of course, it was not without problems. Somehow, there had been a reporter in the Alley and had pictured us holding hands. And so, within a week it had all been over the _Prophet _and magazines like _Witch Weekly_. It wouldn't have bothered me at all but when the hate mail and Howlers began to arrive, I couldn't help but be more than a little miffed. Ginny and I had simply taken to burning the dangerous ones – someone had tried to send her an exploding hex – and laughing at the harmless ones.

I was almost sad when the time came for term to end. Having this little world to ourselves was fun – although I had been more than a little busy with Dumbledore showing me memories about Voldemort; and various possible leads to Horcruxes. – As well as practicing magic and coming up with various ideas for the DA.

It was a uniquely strange feeling, being already sat in the Great Hall and watching as the other students entered. After a while, all the students – minus the first-years, who were still outside – had taken a seat, chatting animatedly amongst one another as the caretaker, Mr. Filch set up a stool in front of the teacher's table, and placed a raggedly old hat atop it. The Sorting Hat.

Looking around, I noticed that there was a few missing faces. Understandable, given that Voldemort made many families wish to stick together and flee the country for safety. However, two people which were a source of awkwardness for me were still present. Dean sat aways up the table with Seamus and Lavedar; every now and then he would throw a dark look my way. On the other side of the hall at the Ravenclaw table was Cho, who would glance at me occasionally with an expression I couldn't identify.

Eventually, Professor McGonagall entered the hall, leading behind her a column of various timid-looking first years. They approached the Sorting Hat and waited. Some were expectant, others were nervous; they jumped when the hat's brim moved and opened, and it began to sing.

"_I am a magic object_

_I am a magic hat_

_Place me on your head right now_

_And I'll show you where you'll be sat_

_Do you belong in brave Gryffindor_

_Where dwells the courageous heart?_

_Do you belong in brilliant Ravenclaw_

_With intelligence and wit throughout?_

_Do you belong in crafty Slytherin_

_Who cherish ambition and power above all demands?_

_Or do you belong in happy Hufflepuff_

_Where sleep the kindest hands?_

_Do not fret, I am never wrong_

_I'll show you where you truly belong_

_But listen to me now, as I say this:_

_Perhaps the Sorting is amiss._

_Today, tonight, Hogwarts is at risk_

_Do not let this warning be dismissed."_

As suddenly as the hat had begun, it finished, falling still and silent. The hall erupted into applause, but just as there had been last year, curious mutterings began to take place, even as McGonagall called out for the Sorting Ceremony to begin. "Amy Benjamin!" She said.

"Still cryptic then." Ron noted dryly. "What'd it mean by the 'Sorting is amiss'?"

"I think it meant that the inter-house divide could cause issues." Hermione said. "Not all Slytherins are automatically dark; but because they get shunned by the rest of the school it makes it more likely for them to _go _dark."

"_RAVENCLAW!_" the hat shouted to polite applause. The first student of the year had been sorted.

Ron groaned. "I'm hungry already."

Ginny snorted. "You're like one of those 'hoover' things. You just keep sucking up food."

"I'm a growing boy, I need my food." Ron defended.

"You don't see Harry or Neville stuffing his face at every oppurtuniy."

"Neville does it when no one's looking and Harry's a skinny git."

"Hey, I take offense to that." I said, as McGonagall called out the third or fourth student. "I'm wiry."

"Bullshit." Ron grunted. The hat called out _"SLYTHERIN!"_

Eventually, all the students had been sorted – twelve had gone to Gryffindor, fourteen to Hufflepuff, nine to Slytherin and thirteen to Ravenclaw. Much to Ron's relief and delight, Professor Dumbledore quickly stood up to begin the annual start-of-year speech.

"It is glad to see so many new and old faces despite the difficult times we live in." He began. "And make no mistake: these _are _difficult times. I once knew a boy who made all the wrong choices." He said. "And you know him as Lord Voldemort. And as I look and see so many of you just like him; I am reminded of a very saddening fact." He paused, and the little eagle in front of his podium ruffled its wings.

"Every day; perhaps this very second, dark forces attempt to penetrate this castle. You are safer here than probably any other place in Britain, but it remains a fact that the reason Voldemort wants this place is not a reason of warfare. It is you. You are his greatest weapon, and we must all band together to vanquish him in the times ahead."

Almost everyone in the hall listened to him with rapt attention, save a few of the more arrogant Slytherins. Dumbledore's face – which had been grave and weary before – brightened before speaking. "However, let's not be depressed on this day of happy new beginnings."

He glanced around the Great Hall. "I am afraid I have a few more announcements than usual –" Ron groaned and smacked his head on the desk, making me snort. "So you will have to wait a tad longer before your bellies can be filled."

"As always, the caretaker Mister Filch would like me to remind you that there is a list of all banned items on the door of his office; the list now includes all products from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."

Ginny grinned at that.

"Secondly, I would like to welcome back an old friend to Hogwarts: Professor Horace Slughorn had decided to retake his old position as our Potions Master. I hope his time here will be just as enjoyable as it was before."

A smattering of applause punctuated by concerned students rippled across the hall. They were obviously wondering what Snape had become. _Probably aren't gonna like the answer…_

"Also, our former Potions Master, Severus Snape has agreed to take on the post of Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher." Shocked whispers broke out. "And we all hope he will be as useful as he was teaching potions." Confused applause.

"Next, I am happy to announce two changes to the School schedule. Firstly, this Hallowe'en, there will be a ball held in the Great Hall; any student of any year may attend, although formal wear is required and misbehaviour can result in your right to attend being revoked." Excited chatter arose from the girls, while worried grumbles came from the guys. I glanced across at Ginny and threw her a wink.

"Secondly: Last year, in face of Professor Umbridge's less than…acceptable teaching methods, a group of students came together to learn;" A few cheers rang out across the hall, along with one shout of "DA for the win!". "I am pleased to say that this club is returning, and will be open to all years of all houses."

Dumbledore stopped. Then he said something surprising. "Harry Potter, could you come up here?"

I blinked in surprise. Hermione elbowed me painfully in the ribs, and despite my confusion, I nonetheless stood up and made my way towards the venerable Headmaster.

"Sometimes, our ever-reliable force of teachers, prefects and our Head Boy and Girl require a little extra help in running the school. And with this in mind, the post of Assistant Professor was created. Any who possessed a good work ethic, a reliable and likable personality and above all: a willingness to help others can be considered for this appointment. They have the ability to give out punishments if deemed necessary, although any abuse of this power can be overturned by a teacher and the person stripped of this status." I had a sinking feeling in my gut now. I knew where this was going. Eventually I reached the dais and looked at Dumbledore.

"Harry Potter has displayed all of these traits and many more admirably; and it is with great pleasure that, for the first time in over a hundred and twenty years, I declare him Assistant Professor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Applause erupted across the hall, much to my embarrassment. I leaned over to Dumbledore and hissed. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Harry, if you wish to break down the house barriers, you will require authority to do it." Dumbledore explained. "This is perfect."

I sighed, and nodded in acceptance, weakly waving to the masses.

Guess I'm an Assistant Professor now, then.

* * *

_**A/N:**__ I now know why JK avoided writing songs for all the books. It's bloody difficult. As always read and review and point out any mistakes and issues. We've still a ways to go yet before the story's over._

_May the force be with you._


	8. AN

I have decided to discontinue this iteration of the story, at least for now. The reason being that the second half is the story I want to write, and the set-up parts I have written now are less than stellar. Read a garbled lump of nonsensical mess.

What the second half of this fiction was going to be I have decided to write as a story titled "_It's_ _Never Over_." The first chapter is going to be uploaded in tandem with this.

However, I may come back and finish this iteration of the story if I feel like it, and I'll be uploading two "deleted scenes": one about how Ron and Hermione would've gotten together in this, and the first DA meeting. All of this will be on my profile, and I'll continue to keep this one up.

Thanks, and apologies, and keep an eye out for _It's Never Over_. It's the cooler part of this story.


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